Living In America
by AdenaMentzel
Summary: A PostRENT drama, Maureen the Drama Queen faces the reality of her life, and breaks down. Please review!
1. Chapter 1

In the dawning of the new millennium, she looked up at me and smiled, and I felt my world was complete—my little paranoid darling. Despite our huge lifestyle differences, such as her need to live a meticulous, successful life, and my desire to say what is on my mind, and help to serve justice, not to mention my need to sing and be on stage. I am the revolutionary, the artist. She is the conventional businesswoman—the unhappy woman in her early thirties in a career that she doesn't enjoy, wasting her life for accepted values and the money to be able to do what she pleases in terms of material wealth. But who needs material wealth anyway? As long as I have my art and my friends, I'm golden. These days, it seems that in order to make any respectable amount of money, you must become a drone in corporate America, the scariest place that I have ever visited. The beauty of real art for the sake of art has been long forgotten, corporate, mass-produced art for the masses, created in order to sell more crap, is turning every moral mind in America (and the world) into a mindless drone, liking only what it is told to like.

She reached out her hand touched my naked shoulder, sending an electric spark through my body, and I realized how lost I had become in my thoughts a bitterness stemming solely from being looked at by the woman who is supposed to be the love of my life. How did I get here? How the hell? What am I doing with my life? What's missing? I'm just devoted to my cause. No, I'm just stubborn and manipulative. She still loves me, though…at least I think she does. The whole situation has become so complicated…I wish we could just start over. I think I love her. Maybe I just love being in love—no, not love, lust. But maybe I do love her. I love the fights, though she thinks that I am just selfish, which is true, but I don't know if she's willing to deal with it.

"Hey baby, are you okay?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah."

"I don't believe you. What's up?"

"Nothing…"

"Maureen…"

"I was just thinking."

"About what?"

"Not much…just how much of a fuck up I am, what I terrible person I have become…my empty life…"

"Oh…baby…isn't it a little early to be getting into the deep stuff?"

"It's been bothering me all night…I haven't slept. This day is huge for the world, meanwhile it has been eleven years and I am still the same person, in the same place, with the same problems. I haven't gotten anywhere…our relationship…" my thought trailed off into nothingness as began to sob. She drew my closer, and for the first time since I was four years old, I allowed myself to be held and comforted. I felt so hollow and empty…sore on the inside. After a while, the tears stopped coming, but my sobbing continued, and the phone rang—it was Mark, I could tell. We—the usual six—were supposed to have met up at his place as we had every year, going back as far as I could remember, practically. I knew that he still loved me, and I was so sorry that I had broken his heart, and so glad that he was still my friend, he was so nice. I would never say that to his face though. The answering machine picked up, and I could tell that he was concerned…I couldn't pull myself together to speak…but I picked up the phone anyway.

"What's wrong?" He was always such a cut to the chase kind of guy, and so perceptive…I thought that was cute, and loved it. I struggled to say something…anything. My voice sounded very soft and pathetic when I finally responded.

"I…my life…everything's a mess." I was a vague statement, but it was hard to make my mouth move.

"Is Joanne with you?"

"Um…" it was I good question…I hadn't noticed whether or not she had gone out, but she was no longer in the bed with me.

"Maureen?" I heard the Mark calling me, faintly…I must have dropped the phone. I realized she must have left, but I stumbled around the apartment trying to find her anyway. I must have been really drunk the previous night from the feel of it. I panicked when I didn't find her or a note within the apartment. I fell to the floor sobbing in the bathroom…curled up on the floor, alone. I grabbed onto the edge of the sink to pull myself up, and slipped, knocking Joanne's antidepressants onto the floor…and found myself unsurprised that she had been taking them. I put the bottle in my pocket, wanting to ask her about them. I dragged myself into the kitchen, finding that all that was there was an unopened bottle of vodka.

"Great. Just great. What is this? A sign? What do you want from me?" I screamed towards to ceiling, "This is pathetic. I need a drink." I pulled myself up to sit on the counter, then I opened the bottle. For each aspect of my life that I hated, I drank. Only half of the bottle remained, and I started feeling really sick, and for good reason—alcohol had been the only thing I had consumed in the past 48 hours or so, and in great amounts… My God…I must be an alcoholic. How conventional…what a commercially fabricated disease! What have I become? What's wrong with me? My life and decisions—everything I have ever done has been a mistake…I've sabotaged every relationship that I have ever had. Nobody would care if I died…not like when Angel died. I was starting to fade now, and I hadn't even realized at the time that I had wanted to kill myself. Oh Angel, you were the heart of this group, this family. Why did you have to die? The past ten years have been Hell without you Angel…and now I'll go to Hell. Here's to never seeing you again, Angel. Here's to never feeling love again, Angel. For each pain, for each unanswered question I went on like this, following each by popping two of the pills and swallowing it with the vodka. This is fate…my life will just be a tragically trashy novel. I can't believe that my life could be so…mainstream. It's disgusting. I was supposed to be a revolutionary, brave. I was supposed to make a change. When did I just start accepting life as it came? Who am I? How did I get here? I need help…I had swallowed thirty pills and finished the vodka in about five minutes. I was really angry with myself now…I didn't want to die, but I didn't want to continue my life either. I couldn't believe this was happening. I pinched myself…hoping that I was dreaming, that these past ten years had all been a dream. It hurt…of course…this whole fucking nightmare was true. I liked the pain. In this altered state it seemed adequate punishment for my failures. I started scratching at the monstrosity that I had become, scratching until I bled…but no, that wasn't enough…I grabbed a knife from beside me, and started slicing, carving away at my left arm, slashing…the last thing I felt was the knife digging into my skin as I fell from the counter…blood was everywhere…

I smelled cleaning agents and a disgustingly sterile environment. Fuck…I'm still alive. I felt someone holding my hand, and opened my eyes to see who it was…it was Mark. With him I saw Roger, Mimi and Collins. I tried to open my mouth, but it hurt too much, so instead I cried. Mark held me, and it was weird, because I actually felt loved. Nothing romantic or sexual, but I knew I could feel that he genuinely cared about me, and it was then that I truly realized that Joanne was merely putting up with me. I realized the hell I had put him through all those years ago, but I felt no bitterness from him in this moment, and that only made me cry harder.

"You scared us. We love you. Don't try to talk—they had a tube down your throat to pump out your stomach…it wasn't pretty. Doctor said it'd be sore. We almost lost you—it was difficult to save you because of the loss of blood in addition to the alcohol poisoning and the pills…it was really close."

"Why…did…you…save me?" I struggled to say. I was really curious, though, as to why they would go through the trouble.

"I love you, remember? Despite the hopelessness of it all, I can't help that fact. We all love you, you are a part of this little family we have created. You would have done the same for any one of us." Mark was such a sweetheart. Then Mimi added,

"Yeah, I mean…you looked for me…and found me, even saved me." She hadn't spoken of that night since it happened. She was embarrassed, not only by her weakness, but by the fact that a series of major mistakes had caused everything that had happened, although she frequently talked about seeing Angel in that near-death experience.

I looked down at my arm, and saw that it was covered in gauze. I wanted to see my wounds…I couldn't believe what I had done, but then I remembered what had brought it on, the abandonment…the hopelessness…where was Joanne anyway? I could tell that it was the one questions that everyone wanted to ask, but was too afraid to verbalize…it had brought on an uncomfortable silence…I broke down. It was technically Joanne's apartment, so she couldn't have gone anywhere else to stay that we knew of…other than her parents.

"Maureen—we tried to find her, but her parents weren't home and she isn't at work…" Roger replied, in response to the question in my eyes. I was worried about her, but I didn't want to say so. I knew I had hurt her with the things that I had shared with her about my dissatisfaction with our relationship, especially after she had tried so hard for such a long time to make things work, to accept me…we both had tried so hard, and it had even seemed like things were working out okay, but we were both unhappy, and could sense it, just too afraid to say so.

"Oh my God Mark...this is a disaster...it's all my fault...I hope she's okay...I was so stupid...I was so mean...I can't deal with this."

"Maureen...what did you do? What did you say?"

"I was telling her about what I was thinking...because she kept prying...I was still drunk, and I hadn't gotten any sleep...I told her how unhappy I was with my life, and our relationship...and the problems...I thought she understood...and she was holding me...and then she must have said something when she left, but I don't remember, because the next thing I knew, you were calling me, and she was gone...I hope I didn't say something stupid...or do something stupid..."

"I still don't understand why you keep trying with her...every other second you're at each other's throats, and she is always mad at you for the things that you say and do. I think that she's trying to make you into someone that she can love, or make herself love who you are, but she can't. Not for a lack of trying."

"Mark, I don't think that is helpful," Collins offered, "I think Maureen needs a little reassurance."

"No, Collins, it's okay. It's the truth. And I was hoping that I could change her, too, that I could make her accept me. Either that or I would play the victim." I need help, but I am too proud to give in to the psychobabble revolution.


	2. Chapter 2

"Maureen…Maureen…Earth to Maureen…" I heard the faint murmur of people talking, but was otherwise oblivious to the world moving around me…until Mark started to shake me, very gently, as could be expected of the darling little boy with bright blue eyes behind those thick black glasses.

"Yeah?" I sounded annoyed.My tonepissed me off. They had saved my life, so what right do I have to be pissed? Why do I always try to sabotage my relationships?

"I was just wondering where you had retreated to being that recent events have caused us to doubt that your thoughts are healthy," Mark always tended to ramble a bit, and even as he spoke he began to blush faintly.

"I'm sorry Marky. I didn't mean to scare you or anything…I was just concerned about Joanne. Having a wild imagination is not a good thing in a situation such as this." What had I ever done in my life to deserve this sweet boy? How is it possible that he is now my best friend, even though I broke his heart? I hurt him so deeply…I truly admire his ability to forgive. I really don't deserve to have these amazing friends. I wish that they hadn't found me, that they had let me just die there, so that I wouldn't have to taint this planet anymore…

"Maureen?" He sounded concerned. It wasn't until he spoke that I even realized that I was crying again. He grabbed my left arm and pulled it away from my right arm, and I realized that I had been trying to pierce my skin with my crimson nails.

"I don't know what's wrong with me. I just want this pain to be over." Collins, reacting to my obviously depressed state and desire for an easy way out, exclaimed,

"Life is pain. Whether or not you give up is what determines what kind of a person you are." I let out an involuntary sigh.

"What does all of this say about me?" Collins moved closer to me and squeezed my shoulder, reminding me of Joanne's gesture in bed that morning, and I moved away from his hand instinctively. He pouted his lips at my reaction and continued,

"Well, I'm not doctor or anything, but I think that it says that you are unhappy, but you don't what to do. You've done a lot of things that you regret, but you know that you can't take them back. I don't think that killing yourself would have solved any of that." I smiled weakly, tears streaming silently down my face.

"I'm just scared. My life has been so empty. I feel so alone."

"You're not alone. We're all here for you," these were the first word that Roger had spoken since I had been conscious of their presence, and they meant a lot to me, considering that he was so brutally honest, not unlike myself, "Maureen, I think you need some rest. We'll go out and look for Joanne, and we'll be back later…"

"Don't stay away too long…" I didn't want them to leave. I was afraid to be alone with myself, but I was so drugged up and just overall out of it that it was probably for the best. I locked eyes with Roger for a brief moment, my panic blatantly obvious to him. At first I saw concern in his eyes, but he caught his slip and his glance changed to one of reassurance.

"You'll be okay. I promise. We'll help you through this. And we'll find her. Try to rest…you'll need your strength. Sleep." I rarely connected with Roger this freely, and certainly hadn't for the past twelve years or so. We were friends, but he never forgave me for what I did to Mark. It didn't help that I had never forgiven myself.

Within five minutes of their departure, I was lost in sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

"Oh my God…oh my God. This is my fault. I shouldn't have left her…" I felt a hand on my gauze-covered arm and winced from the pain. I opened my eyes, but nobody was there. I saw that I had ripped the gauze from my arm. It looked awful…the skin was absolutely shredded, so much so that you could scarcely see that there was skin remaining on my arm. The gauze was pretty much soaked, and my arm was bleeding again. I stared at my arm, not believing what I was seeing. A knock on the door startled me, and I sat up straight in the bed. It was Mark. I was relieved that he was alone…I really wanted to talk to him.

"Hey. How are you feeling?" His eyes were filled with concern. I was instantly filled with guilt. I couldn't look into his eyes any longer, or I would have cried, so instead my eyes dropped down to my wounded arm, the blood. "I'm sorry. That was a stupid question. I'll just…go. Now."

"No! I mean…stay with me. We haven't really talked…like, really talked in a very long time."

"No time like the present."

"Mark…I am so sorry for what I did to you."

"That was a long time ago. We were just kids. It doesn't matter." I looked into his eyes, searching for the emotion that was usually so prevalent in his eyes, and I could tell that he was trying with all his might to be strong for me.

"I know that you don't mean that. Don't try to be so emotionless. It doesn't suit you."

"I knew that you would see through that."

"Thanks for trying, though. It was sweet."

"If it isn't too much…I mean, I hate to pry, but…why'd you do it? Are things really that bad? Why didn't you come to me?"

"Oh Marky…it's so complicated. I just hate myself. I've been so terrible to everyone who has tried to love me. I have sabotaged every relationship that I have had. My life has not been going anywhere. I never got over the loss of my performance space, and I have been sucked more and more into corporate and commercial America without even noticing…and it's disgusting. I look in the mirror and I hate what I see." By this point I was sobbing again, scaring Mark with my intensity, as I always had, and he was, as always, unsure what to do, but sweet. I scooted over, and patted the spot beside me, indicating that I wanted him to lie beside me. He complied, stiffly. I laughed through my tears. I curled up beside him and buried my face in his skinny little chest. He stroked my hair and tried to reassure me, and I was grateful. "Mark I am so sorry…I'm sorry…so sorry…" After a short while, I fell asleep on him, and as I drifted off, I could feel his fingers in my hair, playing with my curls as he had so many times, so long ago.


	4. Chapter 4

The doctors had made me stay overnight for observation, and they had made Mark leave. I slept through the whole night, for the first time in a long time, probably because I had physically exhausted myself through my passionate attempt to do away with myself, in addition to sobbing for practically the whole day. It had been the most emotionally draining day of my life.

In the morning, I awoke surrounded by Collins, Mimi, Roger and Mark, all looking exhausted and concerned. I frowned and sat up straighter.

"You guys…what's going on?" I was scared, and smiled nervously waiting for a response. They pushed Mark forwards to speak.

"Well, you see…we didn't find Joanne…and we looked everywhere…er, they looked everywhere. I went back to Joanne's to see if she left a note or a message or anything…but then this morning when we went back to our place…she was there. She was concerned about you, but she was also hurt by what you had said. Apparently she had been with her psychologist…"

"Her what? Why didn't she…"

"She's confused. She doesn't feel like she understands you. She said she's sorry but she needs a little time to herself to think about her own problems before she can deal with yours…"

"She…but…where is she now?"

"She said that she would stop by to see you later…I said you would stay with us so we could keep an eye on you…is that okay?"

"Whatever." I was hurt, and I felt betrayed by my lover. She had deceived me by not sharing her problems with me. She didn't trust me. That was the real killer.

"You okay Maureen? Ready to get out of here?" Collins piped in.

"Yeah. Get me out of here…it's too…clean and bright."

"It'll be alright…she'll come around and you guys can work everything out." Mimi reassured me. She had been so positive since she kicked her drug addiction.

"Does she know everything that I did to myself?" Mark looked at me with soft, understanding eyes, and divulged:

"She feels guilty, but mostly I think that she is just scared for you. She knows that you will do anything that you set your mind to, and she doesn't want to make anything worse. She just doesn't know how to help. I think you really scared her…I mean, you scared all of us…she blames herself, because she left you there by yourself." Collins came back into the room proclaiming:

"Maureen Johnson, you are now freed from this sanitary prison, to return to your messy life." He hugged me, and they let me change into my regular clothes.


	5. Chapter 5

God I hate being vulnerable. These past couple of days have been ridiculously difficult. I am embarrassed that my weakness took over. I don't want them to look at me like wounded little helpless puppy that I am. I have known these people for the better part of my adult life, so one would imagine that I would be able to be vulnerable, but vulnerability is something that my parents had always frowned upon. They have always been so proud and conservative. My sexuality and radical ideas have embarrassed them, which is why I don't usually maintain contact with them. As a matter of fact, I haven't actually seen them since the party celebrating my relationship with Joanne…the year when Angel died. I have been the most estranged from them since that day. I mean, in the past we had never really agreed on anything—the teenage years were Hell, and I made sure they felt it. I was a privileged child, and they can't understand why I would choose to live in this less respectable world, although they have tried to understand about my choices. They were so happy when I was with Mark. He was such a nice boy. They loved him so much. They never liked Joanne, though I suspect it is only because she is a woman. She is more like them than I want to admit, and that probably explains all of the fights that we have with such frequency. I wish they didn't have to try so hard to love me. That is just the way that it will be because I am not willing to compromise myself for anyone. Except for the fact that I have been changing because of the influence of the world. I'm just too proud to admit it. Oh, the Bohemian life.

There was a knock on the door, and I tensed up. The others had left me alone because there was a Life Support meeting. They invited me to come, and I had considered it, but I didn't want to miss Joanne when she stopped by. I was worried about her. I didn't want to acknowledge my own fears and pain about myself, so instead I worried about her. I slid open the huge metal door with some difficulty, and she was standing there looking equally as concerned and guilty as I felt. The mirror image moved me, and I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. My reaction was combination of the two, and my face contorted with the mass of emotions. We embraced, crying. Not a word was said, but everything was understood. We stood there like that for a long moment, emotional, pregnant. Then she took my face in her hands, and looked into my eyes, seeing my pain, my fear. I couldn't hide anything from her, so I didn't understand how she could have hidden so much from me. I could tell that she was sorry, ashamed even. She, too, was uncomfortable admitting her weaknesses and faults. I'd never noticed it before. I felt my love for her building, the passion that characterized our relationship. We kissed, and the kiss deepened. It was beautiful. We stumbled over to the sofa, and I pushed her down onto it, which was when she noticed my arm.

"Oh, baby," she cooed. She sat up and took me on her lap. She removed the gauze bandage, gently. She slid out from underneath me and retrieved some fresh gauze and the ointments and things that the hospital had given me, and returned to her prior position, nursing my wounds. It was so sweet that I just melted. When she was finished, she kissed my nose lightly and said,

"I think it's about time that I should go back to work…will you be okay on your own?"

"Yeah. But wait…I need to talk to you first…I just have a few questions."

"Can we do this later? I'm late."

"I'll walk with you. I need to move anyway," I left a note on the table so that they wouldn't worry, and we left. Outside it was snowing, and cold.

"Why didn't you tell me about the pills? And the depression and the doctors?" I didn't want to cry anymore in front of her, but the tears came anyway. I could tell that I was hurting her, but I needed to confront her, for my own sanity. I didn't want to keep holding things against her.

"Maureen…I know how much you hate the mainstream—the medications for depression, the commercialized 'psychobabble'. I didn't want to hurt you by going against your current cause. I'm sorry. It was a bad call, but I felt so guilty."

"You knew that I wouldn't understand," now I felt guilty. She couldn't come to me in her time of need, when she was fragile and hurting, "Pookie…I'm so sorry…I can't believe I'm such a bitch."

"Oh, no, Maureen…it's not entirely your fault. We should have talked about it together. We were both having our own battles with depression, and we should have used each other as support. But I failed you. I left. I was just looking for the easy way out. I wanted to avoid my problems." I couldn't believe that she was saying exactly what I had been feeling. We had both failed each other. I didn't deserve her.

By now we were in front of her office building. Joanne always got really touchy about affection in front of her office building. I was a mess, with my puffy eyes and lack of makeup, the bags under my eyes. Joanne looked amazing, though. She hugged me and disappeared into the office building. Suppressing emotions to keep up appearances was how she had succeeded in this Cyberland, even despite her being a black woman. It had been hard, and she hated it—being a lawyer that is, but she was willing to sacrifice her happiness so that she—we—could live comfortably. I had some money, but not a lot. Protests don't pay, and my performance space had been taken all those years ago, and despite my attempts, I had failed to get it back. I was capable of making my own living, but the comfortable lifestyle had allowed me to pick and choose more freely. I got singing gigs every now and again, but my need for the stage was insatiable. Protests were my only creative outlet. I'd been writing songs and ideas down, creating performances that seemed spectacular, even writing plays. Not that I had anywhere to perform them, or the resources to make it happen. Roger even wrote music for my songs. We'd work together for hours. I didn't tell Joanne. I was embarrassed.


	6. Chapter 6

What was I thinking? I didn't want to get back together with Joanne. This is all her fault anyway. Oh, who am I kidding? I walked back to my apartment dejectedly, more confused than ever before. I don't know what to make of my sexuality, or my relationship with Mark, or Joanne for that matter. I know that they both love me, but I don't know whether that is enough, or who I love more. I don't love Joanne. Or, at least I don't think that I do. And Mark is sweet…he's the best friend that I have ever had, but I don't know whether I feel anything for him sexually or not. The one thing that I do know for certain is that I need to sleep. But sleep has never come easily for me. I'd missed Marky being my production manager, that's for damn sure. Joanne didn't know a thing about what needed to be done. I can't explain my attraction to her. We fight all the time, and it's nothing but drama. We have nothing in common, and we bring out the worst in each other, yet I still love her…or…I still keep her. She still loves me. Oh I don't know…I'm back to square one again.

I found myself back at Mark and Roger's loft, without intending to go there, just as an automatic reaction. I was too lost in my confusion…I couldn't deny my affection for Joanne, and yet she caused me so much more pain than it was worth. One second we would be fighting, and the next we would be all over each other. The instance in the loft was really no different.

The door was open, and I let myself in, still not fully realizing where I was or what I was doing, and I fell back against the door after I closed it, falling into a heap on the floor.

"Maureen…is that you?" Collins. Great. No way to avoid talking about my problems now. He was such a big brotherly influence on all of us. I often wondered how he did it.

"Yep, it's me."

"You okay?"

"If okay feels like you've been hit by a freight train."

"That good, huh?" He had emerged from his bedroom and extended his hand to help me up from the floor, "You been drinking again?"

"No. I was with Joanne. I walked her to work. Now I'm confused again." He led me over to the couch and sat down beside me.

"Yeah, and why is that?"

"Well, we made up again. But I don't want to keep repeating this cycle. I don't think that she is the one for me either. But I don't want to give her up and be alone again. Especially knowing all that I have invested in this relationship…not to mention eleven years of my life!"

"What made you stay with her for such a long time then?"

"I don't know. Hope? Pride? I didn't want to have hurt Mark for no reason. I didn't want to admit to myself that I might have been wrong, maybe? I don't know whether I could live the rest of my life with a woman, and I am questioning everything. I mean, I was never exclusively a lesbian, but that's just because I could never make up my mind. But I'm getting older now, and I think that I might want to have kids. Never settle down, oh no, never, but…I'm getting this whole biological clock guilt and I don't want to regret it. I'm rambling here. This isn't the real reason. I don't think that I am happy. I don't feel that spark. I don't think I ever did."

"Have you spoken to Joanne about this?"

"No. I just…got wrapped up in emotion. I felt a sort of passion, understanding. It might be love. Oh, Collins, I'm so lost."

"And what's all this about Mark? Do you really think you belong with him?"

"I don't think I ever stopped loving him. I just…was stupid. I don't know whether or not I should have left him, but I shouldn't have done it the way that I did. And I shouldn't have done it for Joanne. When I was talking to him…I felt so at peace, such a feeling of love and warmth…but I don't know if I really feel for him sexually…"

"Maureen, you have not been yourself recently. You used to be the most passionate, sensual, outspoken woman that I knew. I loved that about you. What's all this mushy love talk all of a sudden? What's going on? What's with all the emotion all of a sudden?"

"Eleven years have gone by. And I'm still in the same place—nowhere. Everyday I regret the choices that I have made…don't you know that? That's why I wanted to kill myself! I don't like anything about my life, my choices, my behavior. I just woke up one morning, and I didn't know who that girl in the mirror was, but she wasn't happy, even though she seemed to have everything."

"Why the sudden lack of self-esteem? You used to be the most confident woman in the world. You could so anything and it would faze you, my diva. I adored that about you."

"Oh, don't you see? It was all an act. All of the cheating I did…it was because I was insecure…I didn't feel loved. After April, Mark separated from me, and I couldn't blame him—Roger needed support. But I was being rejected. I don't think he realized that I was hurting about her suicide, or anything else, for that matter. He didn't have the time to deal with me. I don't think that I asked for that much, but when he started forgetting to call me, or show up when I planned to meet him, he missed a couple of my performances…that was it. I needed attention. I thrive on attention. I'd flirt with other people to make him mad, hoping it would clue him in. It didn't. He never got all that mad either, until that night…the argument? When I ended up dumping him. Of course, I didn't realize my motives at the time, but now it all seems so clear. With Joanne…I get so jealous of her work, her colleagues. And then we fight. I'm sick of it. I went through with the commitment ceremony, but she grew more distant, so I cheated more. Then we called off the commitment, and nothing changed. It's insane." Fuck. Why am I telling him all this?

"You still flirting with other people?" His voice was stern.

"You mean before all this? I was trying not to. I kept slipping up though…God I was just so lonely. I don't know if I love her. Maybe I don't really feel much for her. I feel safe though, because I know her…God. I am so stupid. I'm going out…and I'll go to my apartment later. Don't worry about me…I'll be fine." It took all I had not to break down right there.

"Ms. Johnson, I know that you are not trying to evade answering the question! And I don't trust your mental state enough to let you go out on your own—you did just try to kill yourself, after all!"

"Oh fuck it. What do you care what happens to me?" As soon as the words came out of my mouth I regretted them—and clapped my hands over my mouth so fast it would've made your head spin. Self-deprecation is most certainly _not_ the way to address a friend—especially if you want to be left alone.

"Excuse me? Let me decide whether or not you are worthy of my caring and concern. Now little missy, we are going to the Life, and you are going to tell me exactly what is going on in that pretty little head of yours." I groaned, but I knew there was no way around it, and it was precisely at that moment that I realized my suicide would have destroyed Collins, but I kept this revelation to myself—hey, I could at least pretend I was in control and knew what I was doing, right?

"Now, Maureen, are you going to do this the easy way or the hard way?"

"Huh?" I had completely spaced out pondering the implications that my death could have had. I suddenly had a flashback to New Years Eve ten years ago. The resolution we made…our family, with Angel. Our beloved Angel. Thinking of her still brought tears to my eyes—oh shit, I don't want to cry anymore—can't cry in front of Collins—have to stop this—get in control, Maureen—

"FUCK!" The tears were spilling over, my body suddenly wracked with sobs. _That_ must have scared Collins.

"Maureen? What's wrong?" He sounded scared for me, and when I raised my head to look into his eyes, his concern only made me cry harder.

"It's…nothing…I'm…fine," that was pathetic. Nobody on the planet Earth would have possibly bought it. Collins let out a deep chuckle, and I slumped over, "What is wrong with me Collins?" He rubbed my shoulders and reassured me a little, and then said,

"I'm giving you five minutes to pull yourself together, and we are going to the Life Café. Sound plausible?" I couldn't find the energy to speak, so I nodded meekly. God, this is so not my style. What _is_ wrong with me lately?


	7. Chapter 7

Five minutes later, I emerged from the bathroom, looking slightly less terrible, but my eyes were still bloodshot, my face still splotchy. I didn't even bother with the makeup in my purse, figuring I would be crying again anyway.

"Well, what're we waiting for?" Collins was looking me over very carefully, trying to assess the damage, I supposed, but it made me uncomfortable. That question made him realize what he was doing. He came over to me and held me for a moment.

"Maybe we should go before the waterworks start again?" I blushed a bit when he said this and buried my face in his shirt, and after about a minute finally separated from him and we walked to the café in silence.

When got there, I saw that Mark was sitting in my favorite corner by himself—it was where we always used to go when we were together, all those long years ago. I felt a sharp pain in my chest and inhaled sharply, suddenly feeling queasy. I stumbled into Collins, and he had to catch me so that I didn't collapse into a pile on the floor.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, peachy. Let's just sit, okay?" I sensed the obnoxious tone of my response and felt guilty. Great job, Maureen, way to make everyone hate you. I practically fell into the nearest chair and rubbed my temples.

"I don't appreciate your attitude," he said when he got over the absurdity of my actions. He still wasn't used to me being such a mess, "now what's really bothering you?"

"Isn't it obvious? I've wasted my life. I don't even like who I am. That's why I wanted to end it. But now I'm realizing how selfish that is, and I don't like that I tried to kill myself, but I don't know how to compensate for my empty, pathetic life. I hate that I never forgave April for killing herself, and yet I was going to do the same. I'm a terrible person. I always have been. Additionally, my art and beliefs have been compromised by this disgusting world, and all the changes I have made for Joanne. I'm not getting anything in return. Everything I do hurts somebody, and everything I don't do hurts somebody else, and everything hurts me. I was so detached from everything…I didn't realize it at the time. My whole lifetime of suffering is assaulting me now. I want an easy way out. My life hasn't ever been easy, but all these suppressed emotions, regrets that I didn't know were there, are suffocating me. I thought I had no regrets. I don't know what to make of my love life…"

"It always concerned me how you never really talked about your emotions, but you always seemed to be okay, so I never pried, but maybe I should have." It was true…the only time I ever felt anything was when Joanne essentially dumped me after my first big protest. I pretended I was okay, but I had to beg her to take me back. I think that was more because I was afraid of being alone than because I loved her though. I hate being numb.

"Maureen? You in there?"

"Oh yeah. Sorry." God this is embarrassing. I can't focus on anything. I wish I could just go into hiding like Roger did after April killed herself—maybe I should try it and just see where my life is in a year. Yeah right. "I wonder what Mark's doing here by himself. He doesn't even have his camera…" I was watching him. He looked so alone and sad that I wanted to go over and hug him. I wonder if that would be weird?

"Don't change the subject Maureen." Collins didn't seem to have noticed how closely I was watching Mark. That was probably the best.

"I wasn't trying to—just look at him! He looks so lonely." I must have said that more loudly than I realized, because his head snapped up and he stared at me somewhat blankly, like my voice had snapped him out of some sort of trance. I felt my face getting red, and I couldn't hold his gaze, so I dropped my head into my hands again.

"How's it going?" I hadn't noticed Mark coming up because I was too busy tracing the grain of the table and avoiding Collins' concerned and inquisitive eyes. I knew if I looked into his eyes he would understand everything. I so transparent, with no defenses to speak of—too exhausted from life to mask my pain.

"Hey Pookie." I was suddenly aware of Mark's hand on my shoulder, and I stared at it as though I couldn't comprehend the gesture. He didn't seem to notice. I looked up into his eyes. He looked tired—about as exhausted as I was, and I melted, "Oh Marky…are you okay?"

"If okay feels like you've been hit by a freight train," I heard Collins try to suppress laughter. I shot him a look.

"Yeah, I know the feeling," I replied, "Why do look so tired baby?"

"I'm fine _mother_." He rolled his eyes playfully, so I pouted at him in the same spirit.

"Take a seat, Mark," Collins interjected. I scooted over, indicating the space in the booth that I had been sprawled out over.

"I was actually going to--"

"Marky!" I whined and gave him puppy eyes.

"Okay. I'll stay for a bit."

"Yay!" I flashed him a huge smile and kissed him. He blushed a bit and moved away a bit.

"You seem to be feeling better Maureen," Mark said as he playfully pushed me away. Collins laughed,

"Yeah—before you came over she was bursting into random bouts of tears with no warning, and couldn't focus on anything. Now she's all hugs and smiles." Embarrassed, I blushed deeply and put on an angelic face. Mark looked a little uncomfortable as well, so Collins capitalized on it,

"Oooh I think someone has a crush." I laughed,

"Where have you been Thomas? Been there done that." I grinned, though. Mark just being there made me so happy, and I couldn't quite figure out why. Mark blushed, so I pounced on him and exclaimed,

"I'm sorry sweetie. It wasn't _that_ bad, but we just weren't meant to be." I flashed a huge smile at him to let him know I was joking and rested my head on his shoulder. He looked at me like I was crazy. I laughed, but then I started to remember the things I had been thinking about Mark, and saying to Collins…

"…Maureen!"

"What?"

"Wow. Way to space out there. What was that about?" I looked nervously at Collins, whose face was contorted from trying not to laugh.

"Marky, I think she's in love with you."

"What? Collins! That's not funny." Mark was so cute when he got excited.

"Who says I was kidding?"

"Do I look like a woman to you? Don't answer that." They continued like that for about five minutes, meanwhile I had retracted into the corner of the booth, and turned to face the window. Tears were streaming down my face. They didn't notice until my body started to convulse. Mark placed a hand on my shoulder gently and I must have jumped a mile. He stroked my arm and I turned to him. He tried to soothe and quiet me,

"Shh…what's wrong? It's okay. Come here." He held me and rocked me. I felt like I was four again. Mark seemed surprisingly feminine and maternal in that moment. I laughed and said he would make a good mother, but held him tight to let him know that I was grateful and wanted him to stay. I tried to breathe deeply and compose myself to speak, which took a couple minutes, but I managed to say,

"God. When did I stop being able to take a joke? My love life is such a mess Marky. I treated you badly…I'm so sorry."

"You have to stop apologizing about that! I'm over it."

"Sorry." He laughed, and I clapped my hands over my mouth when I realized what I had said, which made him laugh harder. He rubbed my back, but said he had to be going since he said he was late meeting Roger, who was trying to buy Mimi a birthday present, but he said he would call me later so we could talk. I flashed him a weak, sheepish smile, and he left.

"Maureen, what the hell was that?"

"What? Oh. Mark has been so good to me this week. He understands me so well. I just can't believe that I was so awful to him. He is so sweet."

"You know that boy is still in love with you, right?"

"Yeah," I sighed, "I just hope I don't hurt him again. Or Joanne. I have to figure out what I want, and what I am going to do. Ugh…or maybe neither of them is right for me…" At that precise moment, my cell phone started ringing. It was Joanne.

"Hey Pookie."

"Honeybear. Did you eat?"

"When?"

"Today, Maureen."

"Um…"

"I thought not. When did you last consume anything other than alcohol?"

"Pookie!" I protested, mostly scared because I didn't know.

"I'm just worried about you baby."

"Me too," I muttered under my breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing. I'm at the Life with Collins right now. I'll take care of it. Is that the only reason you called?"

"Yeah. And I wanted to say I'll be back late tonight."

"But Joanne!"

"I'm sorry Maureen, but I have a job to do."

"I hope it loves you right."

"Maureen!"

"I'll talk to you later Pookie. I have to go."

"But Maur--" I hung up on her, exasperated. What the hell was her problem?

"What was that all about?"

"Ugh. Just Joanne being herself."

"Oh. So right now the balance is leaning towards Marky-poo."

"Ugh. Shut up." How transparent am I? This is stupid. "Can we go now?"

"If you really want to. You haven't said much to me since we got here, though, and you haven't even touched your coffee."

"I'm sorry—I'm just tired. Can we try this again some other time?"

"Sure. I'll call you tomorrow."

"Okay. I'm going to go home now then. Bye babe!" I threw a few crumpled bills down on the table for my untouched drink and practically ran out of the café before Collins could make me walk with him. When I was about halfway to the apartment, I started to feel dizzy and a little nauseous. Nausea? I haven't eaten anything in…how long? I stumbled into a garbage can and threw up a bunch of nasty liquidy stuff, since I hadn't actually consumed anything in the past couple days. Suddenly I felt very weak, and couldn't hold myself up on the can anymore, and I fell to the ground, hitting my head on the concrete.


	8. Chapter 8

Damn—that same fucking smell of chemicals. Hospital again. I opened my eyes slowly and surveyed the room. Looking at the clock, I saw that I had been out for about four hours. I was hooked up to an IV, which was understandable, and everything else was in order…but there was nobody in the room with me. I pouted, but realized that was silly since nobody could see me anyway, and I just closed my eyes again. If nobody's here with me, how did I get here? Then I heard my cell ring, so I opened my eyes again and sat up, spotting my purse on the table beside my bed. I snatched my phone out of the bag and answered it without bothering to see who it was.

"Hello?"

"Maureen? It's Mark."

"Hey babe."

"Where are you? I called the apartment and nobody picked up, and I called this number three times already, and Collins got back three and a half hours ago. We were worried."

"I'm at the hospital."

"What? Why?"

"I don't know. I just woke up and I was here. I don't really remember what happened before that except that I was walking home…"

"I'm coming over there."

"Okay…hurry. I'm really shaken up about the whole thing…"

"I'll be there in ten." He hung up, and it occurred to me that I should call Joanne. A nurse walked in to check on me, so I asked her if she knew what happened to me and how I got there. She informed me that somebody had found me passed out on the sidewalk and called 911. Huh. I dialed Joanne's number, but the voicemail picked up, so I left a message:

"Hey Joanne. I'm at the hospital. I passed out on my way home because I didn't listen to you. I'm fine so don't worry or anything. Don't bother waiting up, either. I'll talk to you later, I guess." I was practically in tears simply because she didn't answer the phone. I'm so glad that I can rely on my lover when I need her. The back of my head hurt like hell, so I touched it, and found that there was dried blood in my hair, though fortunately no stitches or anything of the sort, just a minor gash, which had swollen into a rather large bump.

"Good evening, Little Miss Drama Queen."

"Hi there Mark." I didn't even look at him when he spoke to me, so he came up to my side and stood beside the bed, lifting my chin with his hand so that he could look into my eyes since it was difficult for him to read me, although I knew that he suspected, and rightly so, that I was on the verge of another breakdown, despite the casual greeting and my attempt at sounding okay. He knew me better than to be fooled by that…did Joanne?

"You know, Maureen, you really should stop scaring the crap out of me. How did this happen?" he asked, somehow delicately, as he plopped himself down on the edge of the bed.

"Oh, I just haven't eaten anything in the past week, maybe longer, and the only thing I have consumed in the past week is alcohol."

"MAUREEN! What were you thinking?"

"I wasn't…at least not about my health, apparently. I've been crying and sleeping for the majority of the time anyway, so when did I have time to take care of myself?"

"Things are still falling apart, huh?"

"My relationship with Joanne is a mess. We were okay this morning, I thought, but now I'm so mad at her again. I'm so sick and tired of this relationship."

"Did you say something to Collins about me? What brought all of that joking on?"

"I…yeah. I told him that maybe I shouldn't have left you. And that maybe I'm still going out with Joanne solely because I didn't want to have hurt you for nothing. But on the other hand I don't know how I feel about my sexuality, or if I just need to find someone new all together—and I want to stop hurting everyone in my path."

"Um, okay, wow. No wonder you're such a mess."

"Thanks for the insight there, Mark."

"Sorry. It's just a lot to take in."

"Yeah…"

"So have you talked to Joanne?"

"She called me when I was at the Life Café, and she told me to eat something and that she was coming home late, and I got really pissed. Then after I talked to you I tried calling her, but she didn't pick up…and I felt so alone. She doesn't ever pay attention to me when I need it. Well, at least not most of the time."

"You've just been dealing with the same issues for the past eleven years?"

"I guess so…yeah. But I just can't do it anymore…God, I thought it was impossible to cry any more…I seem to have an inexhaustible supply or tears."

"I would expect as much from the girl who, as far as I know, hasn't cried before in her life. A lifetime of suppressed sadness will do that to you." I looked into the bright, albeit tired, blue eyes of the sweet little boy beside me, who had been the best friend I had ever had, despite the Hell that I continued to put him through mercilessly, who loved me despite my faults and infidelity, and sudden change of sexual preference (although this brought him endless amounts of teasing, which I felt so responsible for and guilty of), and I searched those eyes for the desires that he was trying so hard to hide from me (because he was such a nice guy that he didn't want to fuck up my life any more than I already had for myself), for the resentment he had because of the pain I had caused him, for anything that screamed "I hate you Maureen", but I couldn't find it. All I saw was his love for me, even after all these years, and his deep, genuine concern for my welfare, which he tried to hide from me, with little success, and suddenly he knew that I could read him like a book, and his entire body relaxed a bit. Or maybe he was just admitting defeat. But regardless, he was adorable. I pulled him towards me and kissed him—really kissed him. Not the expected peck on the cheek that I usually gave him. No, this time I kissed him more passionately than I had kissed him since over a decade ago, and yet somehow it seemed…natural, even though I hadn't been with a man in a while…err, not exclusively anyway. Oh how I had forgotten how wonderful it was to be kissed by him.

"Hey Marky, what do you say we get out of here?"

"Are you allowed to just leave?" It was quite the opportune moment for him to say that, as a nurse walked in at precisely that moment to check up on me, and told him that I was free to go, so long as I ate something and he watched over me, since nothing all that serious had happened…just a minor concussion and a little blood. She left the room, and I locked the door. I tore off my gown, exposing my lacy crimson undergarments.

"Marky-baby, let's get out of here!" I wrapped my arms around his neck.

"Where should we g-oh!" he exclaimed as I put my hands on his ass and pulled him into me.

"Can we go somewhere…you know…private?" I asked, quite seductively, lightly rubbing the inside of his thighs.

"Well…um…whoa there…hey now!" I continued touching him in all the ways that I used to, finding I had missed it all too much.

"Or you know, baby, it doesn't get more private than this…" and I undid and pulled off his pants, taking his boxer with them, and then ripped his sweater off of him, slightly knocking his glasses out of place, which he immediately corrected. He engaged me in a kiss, and I felt him hard between my legs. He removed my bra, and slowly drew his cold hands over my breasts, which reacted immediately, and I let out a low moan. He tenderly removed my thong, his hands passing slowly over my hips and down my thighs, and I quivered in surprised delight, my pelvis leaning in towards him. It briefly crossed my mind that I should find a condom…


	9. Chapter 9

Much as we wanted to linger after this incredible encounter, we dressed hastily, and both glowing, dashed out of the hospital before one of the pesky nurses came by. It starting to get late now, but I couldn't bear to be home before Joanne, especially after the message I had left, so I went with Mark back to his place. Roger had left a note on the door saying he was staying at Mimi's that night, and Collins was out somewhere or other, although he scarcely ever returned before the wee hours of the morning, Mark informed me. All they had in the flat was a bottle of whiskey. We sat on Mark's bed with the whiskey bottle, pouring out our souls to one another, and getting drunk off our asses.

When I awoke, I was in Mark's arms. He loved to cuddle, which suited his sweet, tender nature just fine. I found that my clothes were strewn across the floor, and was somehow not surprised. I had a huge headache, and felt a little nauseous, though for some reason I was smiling. I moved to get up and knocked an empty whiskey bottle to the floor. So that's what the hangover was all about! I grabbed a piece of paper and pen from his desk and wrote that I had gone to speak to Joanne, but I would be in touch later in the day, and quickly put my clothes on.

When I got to my apartment, it was six thirty, and I knew Joanne would just be getting up. I hoped that she was still asleep, though I knew that it was not likely. I turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open slowly, not knowing what to expect. What I really hadn't expected was what I found, however.

Joanne was sitting in a leather chair, more or less facing the door, looking drunk, eyes bloodshot and angry, her face tearstained. I suddenly felt very guilty and cursed myself for my stupidity, though I was very careful not to let that show.

"Pookie? Are you okay?"

"Maureen, do I _look_ okay?"

"I'm sorry honey—I told you not to wait up for me."

"Where were you, Maureen?"

"I was at Mark and Roger's. Mark came by to check on my at the hospital, and I went home with him because I was feeling a little shaky and didn't want to be alone." While this was mostly true, I still felt horrible lying to her. I was afraid of what would come next, and knew very well that I was in trouble.

"You can't just leave a message like that and disappear! Especially when you've just tried to commit suicide! And why didn't you answer your phone?"

"What? You called me? I must not have heard the phone, Pookie. I was really mad at you for not being around…and because you were right."

"What was I right about?"

"You were right about the food. I was being stupid and I should have listened to you. You deserve so much more than I am…so much more than I will ever be! Why do you waste your time on me? Why Joanne? I already know I'm not good enough! Don't you realize? Why do have to keep hurting me like this? Leaving me alone? So that I can almost kill myself while you are nowhere to be found? How could you do that? I LOVE YOU!" These last three words shocked and scared me. I hadn't intended to say that, nor had I realized that it was the truth. My little infidelities with Mark had made me realize how much I truly loved Joanne. I remembered Mark's softness, his tenderness. But there was nothing more than that. He was a wonderful lover, and caring, though we just weren't meant to be. But then did I really want Joanne? She was staring at me blankly, gaping at me, my crumpled, sobbing figure on the floor. Tough I had expressed my love for her before, it had always meaningless, though I always believed that I had felt it, but after this moment there was no doubt that I truly meant them.

"Honeybear…oh Maureen…I am so sorry…I hurt you that badly? Just by not being around?" Joanne seemed embarrassed at how stupid her questions sounded, and instead joined me on the floor and held me close. Her anger had melted away as she saw my pain, for some reason now more clearly than ever in the past. She always knew that I needed a lot of attention, that I was jealous of her job, but I suppose it hadn't donned on her that her absence made me feel unworthy…not only of her, but also of living. So that settles it then. I will make it work with Joanne. But I don't want to hurt Marky again…I love him, he is my best friend, he understands me. But I don't think that he could possibly forgive me again, and I worked so hard, I still felt so guilty. And Roger would surely have me slaughtered. Was there nothing I could do right in this life? Everything I did turned to disaster and misery, everyone I loved would despise or resent me, I could tell. Who could I talk to now? Especially about Mark?

"Pookie?" I asked timidly, embarrassed by what I was about to say.

"Yeah?" My tone concerned her slightly, I think.

"Can I have the number for that psychologist-thingy?" I was suddenly very tired, and realized I still hadn't eaten.

"But Maur-"

"Shh, honey, I need help, and I don't see any other way! I've tried." I already hated the rest of my life, and I had acknowledged that I was beyond the point of turning back to my principles without first receiving some serious help.

"Of course, my darling. Now you must eat! Look at this! You're nothing but skin and bones!" I looked down at my clothing and saw that my usually tight and form-fitting leather pants and black tank top, were huge on me, my belt secured a full three notches smaller around my waist. I was too lost in sorrow to realize before that moment.

"Oh my God…when did that happen?" I laughed uncomfortably, concerned.

"Now you see why I was worried about you!" She hugged me warmly, lovingly, and got up quickly and moved to the kitchen, "What do you want honey?"

"Anything." I honestly didn't care at all. Joanne made me an omelet, which I consumed in no time at all, and she laughed heartily.

"Maureen, the ridiculous love of my life, I will never leave you." I felt uncomfortable with the word never, though I didn't quite know why. I slipped the ring I had given her so long ago back onto her finger, indicating my final choice. I was afraid to see Mark again, even though I had promised I would be in touch.

"Sweetie, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I love you! What did you want to tell me earlier?" She got the message—if she kept her secret, I would keep mine.

"You are quite a piece of work, Miss Maureen Johnson."


	10. Chapter 10

I stayed more or less in the house for the next several weeks, leaving only to see the psychologist, and every once in a while to go talk to Collins. Mostly, I sat around thinking about how odd love was, and how difficult it was to understand, and additionally I worried incessantly about my health and weight. I knew that bodies did strange things under stress, but I realized that I must not have been eating well for the past month or so preceding my suicide incident, but my weight came up rapidly, I still weighed far less than I had remembered, to which I attributed the absence of my period, not that I was complaining.

Mark had called me several times, though I hadn't the heart to call him, or even pick up the phone, merely telling Collins to tell him that I needed some healing time before I could see him again. I missed him dearly, but I couldn't stand to dump him for the same woman, not that we had really been going out as it had only been one night, with a little sex, but I had given him hope, which was mean, considering I was so unsure myself. I was too weak to face him, physically and emotionally, and though I tried to deny it, I was still afraid of commitment, and thought that I might yet change my mind, and didn't want to continue giving him hope then breaking his heart.

By the time three months had gone by, in this hermit-like state, which was so unusual for a drama queen, and people really began to worry, because I hadn't even seen Collins in over a month, I still had yet to get my period, though my weight was steadily increasing, a bit over my weight before the incident, though most, if not all of the bulk had attached itself to my previously flat stomach, which concerned me, and additionally I was sick almost every night…and I thought back to that day with Mark, in the hospital, remembering that I had used protection, feeling that it was virtually impossible that I should be pregnant, no, it wasn't possible. My life with Joanne was amazing, and I didn't need that to be jeopardized because of a fucking leaky cond—oh shit. We may have used a condom then, but…we were drunk…I woke up without clothes on—oh fuck. I couldn't handle this. Before jumping to and hasty conclusions, I ran out of the building, my mind racing. I bought a pregnancy test from a drug store, anxious, and without realizing where I was going, much less able to see through the tears pouring down my face, found myself at the loft again, knocking frantically at the door.

"MARK! Help!"

"Maureen?"

"Let me in…hurry!" He pulled the huge door open within seconds, and before I knew it, I was weeping in his arms again.

"What's going on? Why have you gone into hiding?"

"I wasn't lying when I said I needed healing time, but I never called you back because I didn't want to hurt you by telling you that I chose Joanne, and then I wasn't sure if that was the right choice, but I think that it might be, but then I'm three months late and I don't know what's going on and I need to use your bathroom!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Okay. I didn't understand some of that," he said, staring at me wide-eyed and terrified, "go to the bathroom, and calm down, then we can try this again." I was feeling frustrated by his calmness, and refused to obey.

"No Marky—you don't understand. I'm three months late!"

"Late? For…oh…" He finally understood, and his face grew deathly pale, "and you and Joanne are together, but…obviously it's not hers but…" His face showed the he understood everything perfectly, "I'm the only man you were with." He held me in his arms, rocking me as he had that night.

"Marky, come in the bathroom with me. Not that I think this test is really necessary…" I lifted my loose t-shirt so that he could see my stomach. A tear ran down from the corner of his eye, and he ran his cold hands over the slight bulge and I shivered, but was glad of the loving way he touched me, as if nothing else mattered now, that he didn't hate me, not even for choosing Joanne. He led me to the bathroom, and I peed on the stick. The answer was obvious, and neither one of us cared much to look, since the evidence was within me, and visible.

We sat, embracing and rocking, on the bathroom floor, for hours, until the phone rang. I check my watch.

"Oh shit! It's 7:30. Joanne's probably home! What'll I do?" Mark shushed me, and we listened to the answering machine pick up.

"SPEAK!" The ridiculous recording of Mark and Roger proclaimed.

"Mark? It's Joanne. Are you screening? Pick up. I don't know where--" Mark answered the phone, disrupting the message.

"Hi Joanne. It's Mark. Maureen? Yeah, she's over here. You want to speak to her? Okay. Hold on." I didn't know what I would say to her. I didn't even really want to talk to her right now.

"Hey Pookie!" I said, trying to sound cheery, although I realized this as a mistake, since she would realize something was up.

"Honeybear? What's wrong? What are you doing there?"

"I just needed a little change of scenery."

"Maureen…"

"Okay, I know. Joanne? I have to tell you something in person. Can you come over here? It's a very sensitive situation, and I think we need to conference…"

"Are you okay honey?"

"Um, in a sense yes, but in a sense no. We need to discuss something. Just come over as soon as possible. See you soon." I hung up the phone, trembling, with a couple of tears dropping from my eyes. He wiped my tears away and hugged me, and I promptly vomited profusely, as he held my hair and rubbed my back, then held me as I shook, in the aftermath of both the physical and emotional stress on my body.

Then there was a knock on the door…


	11. Chapter 11

Love is much trickier than I had ever anticipated it being. I was always so much in control of things, until recently, but I had never really been truly happy, which was probably my fault for expecting every person in my life to hurt or betray me, which is probably why I inflicted such suffering on everyone I met. After April's suicide, I had been tempted to move away and hole myself up somewhere—anywhere but where I was, and forget everyone I had known, leaving my social life behind. But, being the drama queen that I am, I realized a lack of people would probably be more depressing, and I would probably kill myself within a week.

Mark had answered the door, and the knocker was, as expected, Joanne. I was still in the bathroom, I had told them I would be out in a minute, and I could hear them teasing me about my trend towards tardiness, but I was too distraught to care. As I washed my face, I tried to think of the best way to break the news to Joanne, but nothing seemed to be right. And I couldn't just dump her then and there…we had been getting along famously the past few months, with virtually no fights, which was beyond shocking. I loved Joanne so much, and I loved Mark as well, though I didn't think that I could spend the rest of my life with him, even though he was sweet. I wasn't polite enough to stay with him just because of this little thing growing inside of me, but I didn't want to break his heart. Maybe I should have waited a while to tell her. But she was bound to notice by now, and the fact that she hadn't so far made me realize how little attention—sexually that is—Joanne had been paying to me lately, although somehow I realized that it didn't matter. But maybe she had been suspicious. No way of knowing until she broke the news to her. God I hoped she wouldn't run away because of this, or worse try to convince me to give up the child. She had to know that I would never do that. I wonder if Joanne would love my baby? Even though it isn't hers? Probably not. What if she breaks up with me? Then what will I do? I love her!

"MAUREEN! What the hell are you doing in there?" Joanne and Mark were pounding on the door, probably concerned that I would try to pull and April again because I didn't want to deal with "my condition".

"Sorry. I spaced out," I smiled weakly at the two loves of my life, "I'm okay."

"You were in there for like twenty minutes," Joanne said, as she was expected to, always the organized one, "now what is it that you have to tell me?" I couldn't read her look, as I could tell that she didn't really know what to expect, other than that she would most likely be unhappy with the news. Which was a good assumption, because I _had_ told her to meet me at my ex-boyfriend's loft. I felt a little dizzy, and reached for Mark's hand, clenching it tightly.

"Okay, well…here goes nothing. I was searching for the right words, but I just have to be honest. You know that day when I came home really late? You were up waiting for me? Well, I--" Joanne's eyes widened.

"You _slept_ with the boy? How could you Maureen?"

"Joanne—please—let me finish! It was a really…um. Shit. Marky I don't want to hurt you—I love you both. But…"

"You _still_ choose her?"

"You guys aren't making this easy for me. I can't do this. I just can't." In tears, I quickly ran into the bathroom, but not because I was trying to make a dramatic exit—I had to puke!

"MARK! What did you do to her?"

"Well…nothing!"

"NOTHING?" Joanne roared.

"I mean nothing bad…I mean…she's not dying…I mean…she's just…" Mark sounded scared, and didn't want to be the one to break the news. Joanne might kill him. Beside, I wanted to tell her anyway. It was, after all, my body that we were talking about.

"I'm pregnant Joanne! Now will someone please get his or her ass in here?" Joanne looked stunned and just stood there quietly while Mark came to help me, looking like a sad puppy, though still loyal. How did I get here? Why is my life such a tease? I almost get what I want, and then I fuck it up for myself. Joanne came into the bathroom, silent tears sliding down her face. She spoke very softly now, though I was too lost in self-pity to read her emotions.

"Are you going to stay with him then?"

"I…want to stay with you." It sounded like I was whining, like I was reacting to her sentencing me to stay in the loft.

"And the child when it's born?"

"Um…it could have three parents?" I sighed, realizing I hadn't thought of this, "I suppose not. It sounds a little silly." Mark suddenly made himself a part of our conversation—and why not? He was in the tiny bathroom with us, and he was, more importantly, the father.

"No, Maureen, I think that could work. It could be like what divorced people do. We're all so close anyway…" Joanne stared at him. "I meant geographically, Joanne, but we are all friends, right?"

"Do I have a choice?" This statement hurt me more than anything else, because her hatred for him would be my fault, me screwing up my life again

"Pookie--" I started to protest, but found no words, and instead looked pleadingly into her eyes, as if to say, "please don't do this".

"I'm sorry…" I let out a relieved breath, and she went on "_Mark_. I am, of course, still you're friend. I'm just mad at _her_. Do you think I should forgive her?"

"Joanne, I don't think you should ask me. I have my own bone to pick with your lover. She did choose you, after all, again." I was scared.

"You guys…I can't handle this right now…" I started to fall apart again. Why shouldn't I? The two most important people in my life hated me. I could always move like I had planned to eleven years ago…

They both hugged me, from different sides, at the same time, but I knew that they were both upset with me, and hurt, but given my fragile condition, they didn't want to break me, so instead they put away their anger because they didn't want me to do anything rash.

Suddenly Mimi and Roger entered the loft, and Mark and Joanne helped me up, and we went into the common room.

"MAUREEN!" The impossibly small, pale twenty-nine year old flung herself at me, almost knocking me over, but Joanne and Mark put their hands on my back, and Mimi went on, "We've missed you so much. Even Roger missed you!" He looked at me and rolled his eyes at his girlfriend's behavior, but he had a huge, goofy smile on his face, and I could see that he really had missed me. She removed her arms from around my neck when I made some comment about still needing to breathe, "How have you been? You look tired. Are you okay?" Roger, who had been standing at the other end of the room came closer, looking carefully into my eyes, though he didn't pry, just merely said,

"Mo…we've missed your energy. I'm glad to see you are getting better. And you aren't a skeleton anymore." I could hear the pain in his voice, knowing that he was thinking of April. I went up to him, looked deep within his green eyes, and feeling his pain, I hugged him, and despite his best efforts, a few tears spilled over. I wiped the tears from his eyes and said,

"Mimi, I am so glad that this boy has you. Beneath this sarcastic rock star persona, he is still broken." I caught Roger staring at my stomach as Mimi lovingly embraced him. He shot a questioning look at me, and I placed my index finger over my lips. He nodded.

Collins, weighed down with groceries, was standing in the still open doorway, looking somewhat puzzled that the door was open, but quickly tossed the bags down on the table and lifted me and spun me around in the air, and I said,

"Whoa, be careful, baby," then I giggled, realizing the ambiguity of the statement. He put me down and backed up to take my appearance in.

"Glad to see you have some meat on your bones…"

"God! Did everyone see this except me? Why didn't you say anything?" but still I was smiling, beaming actually, even though I thought I would be distressed. I was surprised that Collins hadn't caught on and Roger had. I had to tell them, "Um, you guys?" I was looking at Roger, and he gave me a reassuring look, and Mark squeezed my shoulder, "I have an announcement to make. I'm pregnant." Collins stared at me, no doubt wondering why he hadn't noticed. Mimi just looked confused, and Roger came up, hugged me, and said,

"Maureen, I'm so happy for you, because I haven't seen you look this happy in a long, long time." One lone tear escaped from the corner of my right eye. I heard the door close, and turned around, noticing that it had been Joanne who had left, and I fell into Roger's shoulder, sobbing, and amazingly, he accommodated for my sudden mood change, trying to console me. This was very bizarre, since he had disliked me for the longest time, since April died, because I was still alive and healthy, but miserable. Mimi, seeing my reaction to Joanne's leaving, ran out the door after her. I released Roger, who wanted to talk to Mark, and Collins came up to me and put a large, black hand on my stomach, which was barely noticeably larger than normal, which made it harder for them to tell, mostly because they hadn't seen normal in a long time.


	12. Chapter 12

Mimi returned a couple of hours later. I had been sleeping very lightly on the couch, and the sudden burst of light and sound of the enormously heavy door woke me. Even in the dark, Mimi looked quite flustered and concerned. I sat up.

"Hey Mimi…what's wrong?"

"Do you really have to ask?"

"No…I suppose not. I didn't have any choice but to tell her…"

"You're right. And she is glad that you told her, but it's a big bombshell." I sighed. I hadn't meant to be so happy about this baby, but one of my concerns about being a lesbian…had been that I could never have a child of my own—adopting isn't really the same thing. It wasn't as if I was proud of cheating on Joanne with Mark, because nothing makes that okay—not even the fact that I love him more than any other man in the world. When I was younger, I had never been interested in having children, but being in my mid thirties, the biological clock was ticking.

"I didn't expect that I could want this child so much. I don't want her to take that as meaning that I am glad that I slept with him or anything, but I am afraid that she won't understand, and I don't want her to feel inadequate for not being able to do this for me…but…oh I don't know."

"Maureen…I don't know what to tell you, other than that you really need to talk to her. She may not be able to live with this living proof of your infidelity. You'll have to be able to deal with that."

"Mimi I can't do that! But I can't give up the baby either…can't put it up for adoption—I want it so much. But I want Joanne! Not Mark, that was my stupidity…I mean…even though I love them both with my entire heart, and I was torn as to which way to go, but I want Joanne! I know that I sound like a four year old right now, but…it's the truth!"

"I don't know what she wants. It might be that she just needs some time to herself, to think things over. But I think you need to be prepared for the event that she doesn't want you anymore."

"Do you think that's likely?"

"I don't know…you know her better than I do. I hope, for both of your sakes, that you can figure something out, because you go together so well, and that child would be so lucky to have to both of you, but I also know that if she should decide to leave, you will be spectacular, and you will find the perfect person for you. And no offense to Mark, but if you can't make it work with him, if you are unhappy, I know that you won't just put up with it. You're strong."

"Oh Mimi, I'm nowhere near as strong as you are…"

"Don't underestimate yourself. Besides, you have gotten so much stronger over the past three months. You can handle it. If everything goes wrong, I'm still here for you. No matter what. I think you should go back and try to talk to Joanne."

"Yeah. I guess I should go now anyway. It's getting kind of late. I'll call you tomorrow, babe. Maybe we can talk more then," she hugged me, looking more concerned than ever, "I'll be okay until then. If I need anything, I'll call."

"Okay Maureen. Be careful on your way home—maybe you should get a cab."

"I will. Bye!" I quickly walked out of the loft, feeling very anxious and slightly tired and hopeless.

In the cab on the way home, I got back to my dilemma. Joanne is so stubborn…that's part of why I love her so much, but if her mind is made up against me, how will I ever get her back? Why am I so stupid? And why is love so elusive? When I was younger I had always thought that if you loved each other everything else would just fall into place. It had never occurred to me that I didn't know what it was like to be in love, and I still hadn't realize how to identify it, or who the true love of my life was until it was too late and there had been many casualties. What if there were a man _and_ woman for each person on the planet? My life would be so much easier. But I have decided that I need Joanne as my lover and Marky as my best friend. Oh, poor Marky. How could I have broken his heart again? Left him for the same woman again? I loved him…I just never realized that it was more as a brother than a husband. I wish that love made sense to me. Maybe I should ask Collins tomorrow…but for night I needed some damage control…and lots of it.

Normally I would have just unlocked the door and walked in, as I technically lived there, but tonight is felt awkward. I knocked on the door, and there was no reply, but I could hear her sobbing, and my heart broke, shattered into a million pieces, and for once I realized what she must have been going through, I felt her pain, and literally burst out sobbing in the hallway, falling to the floor. Wow, the drama queen thinking about other people for a change? This must be a strange period of adjustment in my life. Roger would be proud. After a surprisingly long amount of time, I managed to compose myself somewhat, thought I must have looked like shit, and opened the door, which wasn't locked—highly uncharacteristic of Joanne. I must have really hurt her. I couldn't see her anywhere in the common room, and I didn't want to turn on the lights if she hadn't wanted to.

"Pookie?" I called hesitantly into the darkness, "Pookie, where are…" I couldn't finish my sentence, as my eyes adjusted and I saw her huddled in the corner of the apartment, holding a half empty vodka bottle…oh God, why is this happening to me? It was deja vu. I ran over to her, knowing that Joanne had never been a heavy drinker, and even a small amount of alcohol could make her woozy, even sick, to discover that she was passed out, "Honey? Honey can you hear me?" I saw then, in her other hand, another empty, shattered whiskey bottle. Goddamnit! Why did I have to be such a fucking alcoholic? If I didn't drink, none of this shit would even be in the apartment! I didn't find any pills or anything, nor did I think she had purposefully set out to kill herself, which was sort of a relief. I quickly dialed 911, freaking out, praying that she would be okay. Oh God…oh Angel…send her back to me! I'm not worthy; I'm the bad one. She can't die. I love her…I need to tell her I love her…I need to show her…this can't be happening. Without even thinking, I picked up the phone and called Mark. Nobody answered.

"MARK! Mark…oh my God Mark it's Maureen. Pick up the phone Mark! It's Joanne…she…she…I can't do this. MARK I need you. ANYONE. Is anyone there? Somebody…please…HELP. I called 911…" I broke down and couldn't say anything else, so I hung up. I am such a horrible person…if they had just let me die, none of this would be happening…


	13. Chapter 13

I glanced at the cruel red numbers on the digital clock. Four thirty in the morning. The abrasive, harsh lights in the hospital were not conducive to sleep, but aside from that, my anxiety was to great for me to even sit…I had been pacing back and forth in the waiting room ever since I got here about four hours ago. They wouldn't allow me in to see her because I wasn't a relative, and with homosexual marriage illegal, I couldn't even say I was her spouse, and apparently being her girlfriend for the past decade or so meant nothing. Joanne had yet to stir, and I was frantically calling the loft (where Mark, Roger, Mimi, and Collins were all currently residing), and Collins' cell phone (since he was the only one of them with one) about every ten to fifteen minutes, though nobody would pick up...the answering machine hadn't even picked up since that first call I had made when I was waiting for the ambulance. Where were they? Maybe Benny cut the power again? But what about Collins? I didn't think it possible that none of them would wake to the constantly ringing phone, or even that all of them were sleeping. I had called Joanne's parents as soon as I got to the hospital, but only to tell them what had happened, as I knew they were not going to come, since they were workaholics and couldn't miss their sleep, and certainly wouldn't miss work. That and her father hated me enough to not come to the hospital out of concern for his daughter, since it would mean that he would have to spend time with me. Finally, panicked and frustrated, I called Benny, who answered after the first ring.

"Benny did you cut the power to the loft?"

"Who is this?"

"Cut the crap Benny. Please…did you or didn't you?"

"I had no choice…you know that periodically I have to look like I'm getting rent from them to keep up appearances. They agreed to it!"

"Benny…this is an emergency! I need to call them…I'm at the hospital…something happened to Joanne…I can't leave in case anything changes. Benny…you have to do something. Either turn the power back on so that I can call them or get your ass over there and tell them that I need them."

"Fine. I'll turn the power back on. Give me fifteen minutes." I sighed impatiently, but thanked him for helping, and waited. I finally sat down, and I must have dozed off while waiting to be able to call them, because when my phone rang in my purse, it was right beside my ear, and I just about jumped out of my skin.

"Honey, are you okay?"

"Oh Mimi thank God. I was calling you guys all night, and finally after about four hours realized that nobody picking up probably meant Benny turned off the power…"

"So what happened?"

"I don't know…I got home and I was going to talk to Joanne, but I found her passed out, with an empty whiskey bottle and half-empty vodka bottle beside her. And you know how she is with even the tiniest amount of alcohol. Anyway…I couldn't get her to wake up or anything, but I don't think she was trying to kill herself or anything…but she still hasn't woken up and they won't let me in with her and I'm really scared. I don't know what I would do if…oh Mimi…I'm so scared…can you come over here?" At the beginning of my explanation I felt really detached, but by the time I finished speaking I was sobbing.

"Oh my God…oh my God. Okay…um…I can't believe this. I can't believe you've been there for such a long time already and couldn't reach…okay. I'm gonna get everybody up and we're gonna come over there, and this is going to be okay. Maureen…I'm so sorry honey. I'll be there as soon as I can…I promise. How are you holding up?"

"I'm not…Mimi…just hurry…I can't do this…"

"I'm coming babe. See you in a bit. Hang in there, okay chica?" I couldn't speak, and I tried really hard to make some sort of noise so Mimi would know that I had heard her, which came out as a whimper, though she seemed to understand what I meant, and hung up. I was sitting on the floor in the corner of the room, with my forehead resting on my knees, sobbing. There was only one other person in the room with me, sitting in a very uncomfortable looking plastic chair, but sleeping quite peacefully—and old man, probably homeless. I wonder where I will be when I am that age…whom I am going to be with…Joanne had better wake her ass up and come back to me. She was in stable condition, I was told, although they wouldn't tell me what was wrong. Again, fuck the law for banning homosexual marriage. Otherwise I would be allowed in there. These fucking intolerant pigs. I need to be with her! She needs me! I need her!

"Maureen!" Mimi called from the entrance, with more than a hint of concern in her voice, no being able to see me, as I was sitting in a dark corner. I stood up, and her warm brown eyes filled with questions, but all I could do was hang my head. She came over and hugged me. I found myself incapable of crying, though the pain was overwhelming. I closed my eyes, and we stayed like that for a while. When she finally released me, I opened my eyes, realizing that Roger, Mark and Collins were also there. I stumbled over to one of the hard, cold chairs in the waiting room and sat in it, burying my face in my hands.

"This is my fault. All my fault. Do you realize that if I hadn't answered the phone when you called me, Marky, we wouldn't be here—I wouldn't be plaguing anybody's life."

"Maureen…you know I hate when you talk like that. You are worth so much more than that. And do you really think that Joanne would have lasted if you had killed yourself?" He had squatted in front of me, taking my hands in his, "Sweetie…you look like hell. You need to sleep."

"Mark I can't. One of the two people I love most in the world could be dying and they won't let me see her, and I don't know what is going on. Quite frankly, I don't care what _I_ need right now." Mark looked taken aback, but I couldn't tell whether it was because I set him equal to Joanne, or because I had expressed a lack of concern for my own well being. He looked also slightly dejected, as though I had no regard for his good intentions.

"Well…if not for me, then what about the baby?" He had me there. I couldn't say that I didn't care about the health of this little tiny being that is growing within my body. In the midst of all this chaos, I had forgotten why Joanne was so upset in the first place.

"I'll try to sleep here. But that is the most I will do. I can't leave this building, in case anything changes." Mark sighed, but knowing my stubbornness, accepted the semblance of a compromise that I had laid down before him, and he pushed a rebellious curl back from my face, kissing my forehead. What a sweetheart, even though the reason he is here is the woman who I left him for. He has been so supportive, ever since he got over his bitterness and pain of the breakup. He had taken my decision to stay with Joanne so well this time, the second time. I drowsily lay down on an orange vinyl covered couch-type-thing and allowed my heavy eye lids to fall, drifting of to sleep…


	14. Chapter 14

I had an amazing dream as I slept there—not like the Cyberland dream, no sign of Elsie this time. However, I did see Angel. While I call this a dream, it was the most real experience I think that I have ever had in my life. We were sitting on a bench in some park that I didn't recognize, but it was beautiful, and I felt perfectly safe and comfortable, and it felt like she had never left us—it was just so natural. Despite my all of my confusion regarding the past several days, I felt very calm and clear-headed as she looked seep into my soul, her face showing her complete understanding and love. She really must have been watching over me, because she knew everything that happened without me saying so much as a word.

"Angel…I don't know what to do. I'm so torn. But I love Joanne. I need her"

"I'm glad to see that you realize that honey, instead of your old 'Maureen Johnson needs no one' attitude. I saw right through that, and so did Collins. The others are relieved to see that you have started feeling, Roger in particular. But he would never tell you as much, I'm sure."

"It's amazing that it feels as though you never left…despite the hospital and those awful months before your death…"

"Darling, that is because I have been watching. And listening. It seems that I am confided in more now than I ever was when I was alive. Our relationship didn't end. It just changed. Nothing ever dies; it only takes on another form. Even love. For instance…with one of your two lovers, the passion will remain, in a platonic state. All you have to do is choose."

"I already have. I want Joanne. I _need_ Joanne. Marky will always be the father of my child, and my best friend, but Joanne is my lover. My partner." _My wife. In every way that matters, anyway, so fuck the law._

"Well, my darling, I know that that girl will come back to you. But I can't guarantee that you won't lose her again, or even tell you how long you have left, but go get your woman." I awoke with a start at that statement, jolting into an upright position, which woke Mark, whose lap I had been sleeping on, apparently.

"You okay honey?" He inquired, groggily, though still hopelessly concerned for my well-being. Adorable boy that he was…still a boy in his mid-thirties, he would make a great father. I wished that I hadn't hurt him in the first place, but this relationship was a blessing. I was about to tell him that I was okay, and share my dream with him, but my insides shifted, and I made a mad dash to the bathroom. The loving, darling boy that he was, he followed me to the bathroom, and despite his better judgment and embarrassment (which I could tell since he delayed a little at the door), her followed me into the ladies room. He held back for a moment as I puked my guts out (the joys of pregnancy abound, I assure you), unsure as to his place, not wanting to overstep, but as I writhed on the floor in front of the toilet with the worst bout of sickness that I had yet had, he held my wild, rebellious curls and rubbed my back. When I finished, I fell back to the floor, weak and lightheaded, unable to lift myself from the floor, sweating and shaking. Mark stood up, and, afraid that he was leaving I reached out my hand, and, still shaking, gripped his wrist fiercely, looking into his eyes.

"Maureen, sweetie, I'll be right back. I promise. I'm not going anywhere." I released his arm, still scared though not quite sure why, and, sensing my anxiety, he bent over, stroking my hair, "Maureen, I will never leave you," and he kissed my forehead. Wow, he must really love me to kiss me and tend to me in this icky state. True to his word, he returned to the stall in less than a minute with a damp paper towel which he held behind my neck after first mopping my forehead. Eventually, he discarded the towel in the toilet, and just held me, caressing my aching body.

"Sweetie…I don't think that was normal. It was so much worse than usual, Mo. I think you should get that checked out. Have you even met with a doctor yet?" His voice was so soft, his brow furrowed, his eyes weren't accusing as I expected, but pleading. Something deep within me melted, but my hardened exterior was somehow in control again. Oh how I love those mood swings.

"Mark, are you serious? A doctor?" My voice was very loud and shrill, very characteristic of, well, me, however it sounded completely out of line, especially given his sincere, heart-felt concern. I saw that my response had hurt him. I apologized, retracting my statement, instead simply confiding that I didn't like doctors and had very bad experiences with them, shuddering as I remembered my first gynecologist. I had only gone once, but he had scarred me enough that I never went to any type of doctor until the psychologist that I had been seeing recently. I didn't tell Mark my reasons, just that I was afraid.

"It's perfectly alright to be afraid, but I really think it is in the baby's best interest—you wouldn't want to lose it, would you?" Definitely did not want to lose this child. I might not get another chance. Mark would support me, so it would be fine, wouldn't it?

"Okay Marky, but only because I love you and this baby so much."

"What about yourself Maureen? Don't you love yourself?" This was a good question, and unfortunately the answer was still no, but I couldn't bring myself to say it, so instead I changed the subject.

"Marky? Let's go now."

"Can you get up?"

"Yeah, I'm feeling a better now. I think I'll be okay." I pulled myself up and steadied myself against the wall, then started moving slowly, holding onto the wall.

"Do you need help? It looks like you are struggling there—oh, hey. Okay, take it easy." He caught me as I stumbled and almost fell. I was dizzy…really dizzy.

"Mark?" I said weakly, "I'm scared. Of the doctor. For Joanne. About the baby." Mark leaned me against the wall outside the bathroom and went in search of a wheelchair since I couldn't walk and he couldn't carry me. He returned shortly, with the chair, and also news that Mimi had gotten in to see Joanne by claiming to be her sister, although nobody knew any more about how she was doing yet. I was relieved that at least someone could watch her and report back, although now even more nervous about being in another wing of the hospital. Mark sensed this and reassured me, saying that Collins had agreed to come to us as soon as anyone knew anything. I reluctantly agreed to continue with my trip to the gynecologist.

Fortunately the doctor who I saw was a woman, which calmed my nerves a little bit, nor was she perverted like the doctor out in Hicksville, although a pregnant woman would be far less fun to violate than a fourteen year old girl, I suppose. In addition to her lack of a weapon with which to violate, given that she was a woman. Even so, I gripped Mark's hand so tightly that he began to lose circulation, though he didn't complain much, or even flinch. He was trying to be strong for me, but I think the bigger reason for his solidity was that he was scared beyond belief, although I couldn't see his face from my position, so I couldn't prove it, but I had known Mark long enough to make an educated guess. The doctor did several tests, and I was beginning to get very nervous, imagining the worst case scenarios, nightmarish stories involving miscarriage. The doctor informed me that the baby was okay, but I had a condition called toxemia, which is basically high blood pressure, caused by many things, but in my case probably stress. Well, of course it was stress—my life had been falling apart!

"Miss Johnson, as long as you refrain from stressful activities and situations, you should be okay--" Collins burst into the room, interrupting the doctor.

"Maureen! It's about Joanne…" What was the doctor saying about relaxing? No more stress. Ha. My partner could be dying, and I'm not supposed to stress. Go figure. Times like these made me wish I had just stayed with Mark in the first place…


	15. Chapter 15

Collins was completely out of breath, though I couldn't read his face, so I braced myself for the worst, gripping Mark's hand like there was no tomorrow, and didn't hope for anything. What he said came as a surprise, though I found it somewhat expected, which isn't to say that I was any happier about it.

"Well, obviously you know that they wouldn't tell you anything since you aren't a relative and whatever, but it seems that the alcohol poisoning was way worse than you thought, and essentially she must have been somewhat intoxicated before she got to the apartment, or at least more than you found, which they didn't anticipate, and additionally the alcohol had a reaction with her antidepressants. The alcohol wasn't completely in her blood stream, so at first they didn't think it was a serious as it is, and, long story short, she's in a coma, and has been basically ever since you brought her in. It is ridiculous that they wouldn't tell you." I inhaled sharply, but I didn't cry, somewhat comforted by the fact that for the time being she was still alive, while still hoping that what Angel had said would come true. Of course Joanne would be in some sort of serious medical crisis—God forbid my life were to sort itself out. What kind of fun could He have if I were dead? Not that I'm at all religious or anything…

"I guess a pregnant white lesbian doesn't really make a convincing partner for a loyal, neat freak black lesbian. Then there's the whole homophobia thing. If they won't let me be her wife, legally, then they shouldn't punish me for not being married to her. But politics don't really matter right now, do they? At least she's alive for the present moment." My argument wasn't convincing, and while this was nowhere near the "Maureen, she's dead" announcement that I had anticipated, my voice faltered and my facial expression betrayed my valiant attempt to seem positive and unfazed, "well Doc, I think this explains my stress, huh?" The doctor smiled weakly and mumbled something, excusing herself from the room. Collins came up to the bed and perched on my left side (Mark was on the right), and held me. He was the big brother I had never had, the strong, warm, wise father figure I had been cheated out of, and that every woman deserves. At least I had found one, twenty or so years later than would have been preferable, but I found him.

"Reeney…" that was his pet name for me, and only he was allowed to call me that, which made it feel even more like he was my father, despite our relative closeness in age, "I am so sorry sweetie."

"Collins, I'm fine. I promise I'll be fine."

"So how goes the pregnancy? Baby okay?"

"Yeah. I'm lucky enough to have miserable morning sickness, which will probably last for most of my pregnancy, and a blood pressure problem caused by stress, which explains my dizziness." Collins placed his hand over my stomach, telling the baby how lucky "it" was to have me for a mother, and Mark for a father. It had always been obvious that he thought we belonged together, and was hoping that I would've picked Mark over Joanne, although he understood my dilemma, since they were both amazing and loved me equally. He wasn't going to go any more into his subliminal messaging at a time like this, however, given Joanne's coma. "Collins, is it really bad?"

"Wha—oh. Joanne. Well, coma doesn't exactly inspire much confidence, but she's strong. It's hard to say."

"Do you think I'll be able to speak to her again? Be with her again? I'm such an awful person, and we are on such bad terms because of my stupidity…and now I'm being selfish in wanting forgiveness so that I can live with myself. But I don't think that's it…I mean, I chose her! God must really hate me." I stopped my little rant as a nurse entered the room, the petite woman slightly confused by our presence, then informing us that the doctor had said I was free to leave. The two men left the room, at my request, so that I could get out of the icky gown. Mark insisted on pushing me back in the wheelchair, which I didn't have the strength to object to, my exhaustion overshadowing my pride for once—Joanne would have been astonished.

Though visiting hours weren't due to start for another twenty minutes, Mimi convinced a sex-starved and over-tired doctor to let me in, no doubt using the Erin Brockovich approach (which didn't work for me given my somewhat protruding stomach and disgusting state of distress) I was in no mood to be flirting. Shocker, I know. I got out of the wheelchair, and shuddered as I entered the room, to the fearful sound of the machines that were presently keeping my beloved alive, in the very most basic definition of the word. _Maureen, the ridiculous love of my life, I will never leave you…_I feared that she was leaving me, that she had already gone, and I would never get the chance to explain…what would I do if she died? Angel had said she would come back to me—had she meant that in the physical sense? The dream was starting to become nothing more than a blur, and I felt my heart break at the prospect of it. I was losing my Angel again…oh Pookie, please come back! I need you…I found myself staring at her limp, seemingly lifeless figure in the bed, and realized that the last time I had been in a hospital room because of somebody else's illness was when Angel had expired. No wonder I hate this place so much…I have to get out of here! I need her to come with me…WAKE UP! I wasn't sure if I was addressing my unconscious lover or myself with that last outburst, whether I was telling myself that she was gone, or telling her to come back, though I sensed that is was probably a combination of the two.

I jumped as I felt a cold hand on my shoulder, and turned to find—not whom I expected. It was Roger, looking just about as concerned as I had ever seen him. He had been fantastic to me for the past couple of months, much to the surprise of everyone—probably most of all himself. What was it that Angel had said about him? Something about him being incapable of sharing what? His relief that I was finally being open and feeling. Ever since I had hurt Mark, ever since April died, he had only thought of me as a cold-hearted bitch. That had hurt me more than I could've ever expressed, although me being who I was, and he being, well, Roger, we had turned to ill-intentioned teasing, which was laced with poison and made Mark very uncomfortable. I knew that beneath his resentment he still cared for me, but I didn't want to push the subject for fear that he would move away from me completely. I knew that I was the one who should've died, not April. She wasn't a saint, but if she were alive and I were dead, Marky would've been better of, and Roger wouldn't have slipped into the depths of despair. Although, the world was continuing to turn, and everyone had recovered from these past tragedies, except for me, it seemed.

"Maureen? You in there?" I blinked, forgetting where I was, finding myself cowering in the doorway, having been completely unaware of his calling me. He was shaking me lightly, clearly concerned, having never seen me react this way to anything since April, when we found her in the bathroom.

"Huh? Oh. Oh my God." I was finding it increasingly difficult to breathe, and I felt Roger's strong arms catching me before I had even noticed I was falling.

"Sweetie, are you okay?" He set me down in a chair near the door, not wanting to put me next to the bed if I didn't feel comfortable. He squatted down in front of me and looked deep into my all-revealing eyes. His green eyes were softer than I had ever seen, and watery. He knew how I felt, and it was as though he had subconsciously wished this upon me, and now aware of that horrible desire, realized that nobody deserved this. He also understood the tragedy in my situation—I had finally been happy, thought I knew where I was going, and suddenly it fell apart again. I didn't say anything, but once again collapsed onto him, not crying this time, to much in shock, and confused, and not to mention sufficiently dry of tears, although my body shook violently all the same, "Do you want to stay in here with her?" I nodded, and moved myself to the chair beside her bed, taking one of her hands in my own, gripping it tightly. Roger ran his hand over my back soothingly, and kissed the top of my head, then left me alone. For a crude rock star type, he truly understood emotions and body language more deeply than most people I had known. I climbed into the bed beside her, tracing the contour of her chin lightly, holding her close to me, silently praying, pleading to an unidentified deity, realizing suddenly that for a godless person, I spoke a lot about God. I realized, however, a lot of the "prayers" that I said were aimed towards Angel, my guardian angel.


	16. Chapter 16

When I awoke, I found the rest of the gang sitting and standing in various positions around the bed, and myself feeling rather confused, but then I remembered where I was. Something about hospitals always seems to disorient me. Everyone was smiling though, as if they were all in on a secret and wouldn't tell me. Which is only fitting because I am the only one who can't keep secrets. I turned on my other side to find Joanne awake (of course with the breathing tube already removed), which was bizarre. I hadn't known anyone who had been in a coma before, and certainly wasn't a doctor, but this seemed very bizarre. I thought people in comas usually didn't wake up? I didn't say anything because I was overjoyed, but also because I knew that I was probably wrong anyway.

"Hey there, Honeybear!" She caressed my arm, and suddenly I felt very uncomfortable, and recoiled a bit, which caused her to form something of a pout with her lips. I giggled at the attempt to imitate my signature facial expression and kissed her. I was unsure as to whether she remembered what had led up to this point or not, but I didn't want to sabotage this moment, especially after Angel's reminder to me about our little credo.

"How are you feeling, Pookie?" I searched her eyes for the anger and resentment, or hurt, even. She was guarded, and all that I could read from her face was the physical pain was immense, and her eyes seemed a little distant, though I couldn't quite tell if it was from anger or the natural disorientation that came from being unconscious.

"Like Hell. With the worst hangover in the world, and various other aches and pains. Never try that at home, kiddies." It was good to see that she still had her sense of humor.

"Well, there's one piece of advice that we can agree to impart to this little bump of mine!" Joanne touched my stomach, staring at her hand on top of it. She was quite obviously unsure of how she felt about the whole situation. She wanted me to be happy, but she was so hurt that I had run right back to Mark when she had disappeared. She felt an enormous amount of guilt about her actions, and this child would be a constant reminder. The waters got very muddy here, though, because we had talked about me getting together with Mark in order to conceive, since he was my best friend…and we were both women. It was obvious from the start that I would carry because Joanne couldn't stand the thought of having sex with a man, in addition to the fact that she had an actual, steady, paying job. Which would be important if we were to raise a child. I had been pestering her about conceiving for at least a year and a half seriously, though I had suggested it on and off for the past five years or so. She had been unsure about me hooking up with my ex again, especially knowing that he was so much in love with me, and would probably never completely move on, which in some sick, twisted way I enjoyed. But a baby that I conceived with Mark would also be the kindest thing that I could do for Marky, because I could never be with him completely, even though I had been tempted on various occasions to try again. But I was somehow more in love with Joanne. Mark was too perfect, too sweet, and too obsessed with me. It was adorable, but at times had the tendency to make me feel a little like I was betraying him, even if I hadn't been unfaithful, because I felt inadequate. As really close friends (with benefits on occasion which Joanne had still been trying to accept, though I usually didn't do anything with him unless we had effectively broken up for at least a day or two, it was also true that Joanne and I had always, without fail, gotten back together.)

"Honeybear, I don't think that I'm mad at you," she whispered cautiously, searching my eyes to assess my current emotional state, "because I betrayed you first. I abandoned you when you needed me because _I_ was uncomfortable. You needed love. You found it. I want you to be happy." I was curious now, and unsure of exactly what she was getting at, and whether she still thought that I wanted to be with Mark or not. I looked away from her penetrating pupils, and remembered that the others were still sitting there, and looked back to Joanne, who knew exactly what I was thinking. I looked at Roger, who stood up as I glanced at him, and knowingly encouraged the others to go with him in search of caffeine.

"What was that all about?"

"What?"

"You and Roger?"

"Oh…well, he's just been so…perceptive, and nice to me. I think it's because this whole ordeal reminds him of April. He probably feels bad because he thought I should have died instead of her…of course he didn't know he felt that way, probably, but when I tried to kill myself…it doesn't make it any better. And to see me falling apart like this…"

"It's just so out of character for him to be so…understanding…and not abrasive."

"Did you mean what you said about the baby? About all of that?" I didn't want to pry, but her revelation had startled me.

"Yeah. I just overreacted before. I didn't think that you would have really left Mark, and it would've been a mess. I didn't want to keep getting hurt. I guess I was just upset that I couldn't give you what you really wanted. No matter what happened, I couldn't give you a baby, and we could never feel like a real family. I had personally thought that just the two of us were enough, but that never seemed to fulfill you. I wanted to make you happy. I felt inadequate. This whole situation is bizarre, but I shouldn't have expected anything different from you, I suppose. You are the most unique person that I have ever met. So the family that we will create is bound to be the same. The relationship that you and Mark have is one of the strangest that I have ever encountered, and you love each other too much to not have something to show for it. I just have to accept that we live in a much different way than the society in which we live. I could never dream of you giving up that child. We—I can learn to deal. Eventually. It will be hard, but I love you to much to leave you."

"Are you sure that's not just the drugs talking?"

"It could be the drugs. I'm finding myself incapable of producing rage. I also don't want to die leaving you thinking that I am mad at you. I take you back, my love. I will devote more of myself to you…sacrifice more work to pay attention to you." I was dumbfounded. I could not comprehend the ease with which this conversation had progressed.

"Have you talked to Angel lately?" I was astonished that these words had left my mouth—I thought Joanne would laugh at me and think that I was crazy. She was so used to societal norms (except for her sexuality), that I didn't think she would believe it was possible. Of course, being the eccentric anarchist that I am, it wouldn't have been assumed that I did either, but it dawned on me that nothing I ever did surprised anyone. They attributed it to my wackiness. On the contrary, Joanne looked shocked, as though I had read her mind perfectly.

"Actually, honey…I've spent a lot of time with her lately. I thought I sound insane to mention it, but Angel is really the only person that I ever knew really well who has died, so I suppose it would make sense that if I were to almost die, I would see her. I take it you talked to her too?"

"Yeah. Working her magic, even from the grave. She always knew the right thing to do. Whether we are imagining her or not, her influence has managed to get us back together again. It's been ten years and I still feel as though she is with us."

"I'm not afraid to die, Maureen, because I know I will be with her." She looked serious now, and the look that she gave me pierced my heart and sent shivers down my spine.

"Joanne?" I squeaked out, sounding like a frightened mouse, "what's going on?"

"Darling, I don't know how much longer I have, but she told me that I don't have long." It felt as though my heart had stopped beating and exploded in my chest.

"Pookie? How can that even be possible? What's going to happen to you? Why? You can't leave me…you said you wouldn't leave me…"

"Honeybear, it's not my decision whether or not it's my time to go."

"Will you see my baby? Can I hope for that? Will you even ever get out of here? And how would Angel know how long you have? What if she's wrong? What if--?" She interrupted my freak-out by placing her index finger over my lips, then holding me, trying to console me.

"I don't know how long it will be—any of us could die at any given moment. No day but today, right? We are just going to live our lives as before. All I needed was a reminder of that little credo. I want to really live the rest of my life. Nothing is more important than loving you, loving our 'family', whoever that may include, right?" I nodded, sniffling, teary-eyed, and afraid for the future, but realized that she had a point. When it comes to health, nothing is guaranteed. When Mimi came back to life that night, we all realized that there was more to life than worrying about pills and hospitals and diagnoses, although we knew not to ignore the AZT. Hell, Angel had lived months longer than the doctors said she would. We had every reason to hope. _No other path, no other way, no day but today._


	17. Chapter 17

It had occurred to me that the message from Angel was strictly Joanne's reminder to live every day as her last, although I also realized that she probably already knew that. She was probably trying to make certain that I wouldn't leave her, I realized, though I didn't let her know of my suspicion. They kept Joanne in the hospital for a few days, obviously, given that she had just been in a coma and could have other complications. They also made sure that she set up appointments with her psychologist; though they would have rather kept her there to make sure she didn't do it again. Unfortunately, they were also making her go to AA meetings, even though I was the real alcoholic, not her—of course, she made me go anyway, especially given that I was pregnant. They were far more depressing and seemingly stupid compared to the Life Support meetings that I had gone to occasionally to support my friends—alcoholism seemed like a more fake disease. I hated myself even more for being such a bitch and succumbing to that revolting trend.

"Are you okay?"

"Huh? Oh. Hi. When'd you get home?" I hadn't heard Joanne enter our apartment. I was sitting, hugging my knees in the corner formed by the wall and the tub, opposite the toilet, having just had a particularly bad round of morning sickness—even though it was the end of the second trimester, and six o'clock at night—apparently I was one of the lucky ones, to have had it for this long. I hated to be alone though all that, but I had gotten so lost in my thoughts that it seemed an extraordinary amount of time had elapsed between the puking and this moment. She moved towards me.

"I've only been calling you for the past five minutes," she said, sarcastically, then she came closer, squatting beside me, taking my chin in her right hand, turning my head so that I was facing her. Her tone and facial expression changed completely, getting softer, concerned, "Honeybear, what's on your mind? And don't tell me it's nothing. You've been really quiet and distant for the past week or so, and it's been a battle to get you to eat or sleep. I know something's wrong." I sighed. No way to evade the question now. But did I really want to drag her into my head? _Maureen, you have no choice. She's your life partner. Talk to her._

"Oh, Pookie…it's not so bad. I'm so scared, though. What was I thinking? How can I be a mother? And everything is going to be so hard…you, me, Marky…oh FUCK not again…" I didn't quite make it to the toilet in time, and I saw Joanne cringe from where she remained, and she sighed, trying to accommodate, taking only a second to debate between her preferences and my needs. First she wiped up the floor, of course, but quickly came to secure curls that were determined to be soiled, it seemed, and after doing so, rubbed my shoulders. _Marky's much better at this…_

"You know that I will support you in this, and I care very deeply about your wishes. You have to stop underestimating yourself, honey. You will make a fantastic mother. It will just take some getting used to, that's all." I stayed where I was, positioned over the toilet, white knuckled and in pain, dizzy. I couldn't believe the things that Joanne was saying. She hated when I talked about what would happen when the baby was born, I think mostly because she feared I would go running back to Mark, which was very tempting. Almost as though she was reading my mind, she said, "Even if you leave me and go back to Mark, I will still support you. I won't be happy, but if you are, I can't ask for anything else." This last statement made me cry. _How could I have been such a horrible, self-centered girlfriend to let this happen? And then continue to be so happy about this child? She deserves so much better._

"Pookie, don't even talk like that! You know I love you!"

"Yes, Maureen, I know that you love me, but I also know that you are head over heels for your _Marky_. I can't try to compete with that—he can give you so much more than I can! For instance, this!" Despite the anger in her voice, the hurt, she touched my stomach tenderly, and, startled, I turned to face her, only to find tears streaming from her eyes. _How did I make her feel so inadequate? I'm the bad one. This is all wrong. I shouldn't even be here…_


	18. Chapter 18

_Maureen,_

_I never wanted anything more than something, but once you started giving, I was addicted to anything that you could offer to me…you love, that high…your attention, your all. And now I know you realize my problem, and you need me to disentangle myself from the web of delusions I have spun about you, and my dreams of what can never be…I am truly sorry for any pain I may have caused you._

_-Mark_

What the hell is that supposed to mean? I had found this message scrawled on a really old piece of tattered notebook paper, probably from when Marky was in high school. This note scared me. I had come over to the loft in search of company, but he wasn't there. There was just that note, placed on the table. I stared at it, unable to comprehend the words on the page.

"Hello? Is anyone here?" Mimi had walked into the loft, "I heard footst—oh, hi Maureen. You all alone in here?" I found myself unable to speak, just held the note out to Mimi, so she could read it. I sat down, feeling suddenly very faint.

"Mimi, what do you think he meant? It can't be that…? Can it? Where is he? What if…oh shit."

"What is it, honey?"

"Um…on a completely unrelated subject…or maybe not because we're talking about Mark…I think my water just broke!" _This can't be good. I still have a month and a half…_I bit my lip. _Great. This is exactly what I need. Where the fuck is Mark? The one day that I really…shut up Maureen. That's not true and you know it. He's saved you more times than you deserve…_I was blasted out of my head by a contraction, "FUCK that hurts! Damn it! Where the FUCK is he?"

"Sweetie, I'm going to call Joanne. We have to get you to the hospital…" I started to cry, and at that precise moment, a very solemn looking Roger walked into the room. Mimi approached him, forgetting momentarily about calling Joanne. "Roger, honey, what is it?"

"Mark…went to Collins…he's getting worse…the…lesions, oh God…it's happening again…" I was sobbing by now, but suddenly another contraction took hold of my body, and I screamed in pain, fear. I knew contractions were normal, but this was too early, this was all too much, and Mimi remembered what she was supposed to be doing, running over to the phone. Roger continued just standing there, not seeming to notice that I was there. Mimi screamed at him to come over to me, and it took him a couple of minutes to process the command, and then another couple minutes to realize what was happening. "Oh Maureen! Are you okay? What—what should I do?"

"Did you see the note? That Marky left me?" He looked puzzled. _Okay, I'll take that as a "no". _I shoved the paper in his face, and it went void of all color. "What?"

"Oh, Mo…I…"

"Roger, what the fuck is going on here?"

"Maureen, we gotta find him. Now."

"Roger—I can't—I'm in labor." He looked at me again, as though he had forgotten that _teeny, tiny_ detail.

"Right. Well, I have to find him then. This is bad."

"I was afraid of that…" Mimi walked over.

"Joanne will be there…the hospital's only a couple of blocks away. Can you make it?"

"We'll need Roger…" I looked at him as he was heading out the door. He hadn't heard me. Mimi ran over to him, telling him that we needed him to help me to the hospital. He looked back at me, torn. He didn't know what to do, but decided that it probably wouldn't take long, and helped me off of the couch. I fell against him, grabbing his shoulder tightly. He somehow managed to lift me, though for the life of me I cannot figure out how, and carried me down the stairs of the building, cautiously. I held onto him tightly, scaring him every now and again when a contraction came on, almost causing him to fall. We got to the hospital relatively quickly, and I felt as though I were dying. _No, you are creating life. Collins is dying. Collins…_ I was put into a wheelchair again, and quickly taken to a room, my head swimming. I was in such pain—physically and emotionally. _This is going to be the best day of my life. Ha._ Joanne ran into the room and hugged me.

"Honeybear, are you okay?" I sighed. How to begin? I simply shook my head, which caused her to look a bit concerned.

"Oh…it's just…I don't know, really…Mark left me this note, and when I got to the loft, that was all that was there. It scared me. And now nobody knows where he is. I'm scared. And Collins is getting worse…they were my rocks…I'm falling apart…and…OWW!"

"Honeybear?"

"Fucking contractions. And Roger's in this funk, and he went to find Mark…I can't do this anymore. And I keep making you feel worthless, and it's not you…it's me honey, it's me. I am worthless and everything's falling apart around me and I can't keep it together…and you feel like I want Marky more and I don't know what I want and I don't know where he is and I'm scared for him and I'm scared for Collins, and I'm scared for the baby, and I'm scared for Roger, and I'm scared you're going to leave me! And I don't know what to do…Jo, I don't know what to do…I'm so lost…Pookie…" She held me. She was so strong sometimes, and other times…I couldn't help but worry. But right now, even through her apparent strength, I was still scared, and felt completely helpless, hopeless, even as I felt the drugs starting to numb my body. _My life is so unpredictable. What will happen next? Should I trust my intuition? I don't want to…the outcomes are too painful…where is Mark?_


	19. Chapter 19

The rest of that week went by in a blur. After giving birth to my child, a beautiful girl, with clear blue eyes as bright as Mark's (though I realize all babies technically have blue eyes). I was torn as to what to name her, but it ended up being Marcella Angelina Johnson. I didn't know what Mark thought about the last name thing, and couldn't ask him as he had disappeared, but figured that since I had sort of managed to work his name into her name it would be okay. I figured we could call her Marcie.

Joanne had been supportive of my decision, feeling that since she was Mark's and mine the name should reflect on us. Naming her after Mark made me feel as though it was more definitive that she was a part of him that I could have forever, as the idea of the two of us having a child had done for him. They took her away from me for a little while, because she was early, though she wasn't really ridiculously early. They kept me there for a couple of days to make sure that my blood pressure was getting back to normal and stuff like that. More than anything, I just wanted to get out of there and find Mark. He had to see her—she was his daughter. He had wanted this more than any of the rest of us, and was somehow the only one who had yet to see her (Roger had come back after searching for Mark for hours, and had been completely in awe of the tiny child. He was, much to everyone else's surprise, very much in love with babies. He was also, predictably, embarrassed to admit it.

We had finally (once they released me) been able to take her to Collins' room. I don't think that I have ever seen that man smile bigger in his entire life, despite the fact that life was rapidly leaving his body. By Friday of that week, Collins had passed, being reunited with Angel, although we were not at all able to be happy for him, our hearts not seeming to understand the joyous occasion. Collins had been strong, though never quite the same after Angel passed. Yet, he had held on four ten years, then out of the blue, he caught a cold, and his light was extinguished in the blink of an eye, it seemed. We realized how lucky we had all been that the AIDS infected members of our group had lived for as long as they did.

As soon as we had shown Marcie to Collins, I left her in the care of Mimi and Joanne, running off with Roger, in desperate search of Mark. He had to be somewhere. We searched all of the usual hangouts, then all of the places that he wouldn't be caught dead hanging out in. _Caught dead…_no.

"Roger? Have you tried calling his parents in Scarsdale? There is a slight possibility that…" Roger stared at me as though his intelligence had been insulted a ridiculous amount. "I'm sorry Rog…I'm just…"

"A _little_ bit freaked out? Yeah, I know the feeling." The venom dripping from each word that he said stung, and I picked up the pace, so that Roger couldn't keep up, so that he couldn't see… "Maureen, are you crying?"

"Fuck off, Roger. I'm not in the mood…"

"No, I'm not teasing you, Mo! Come on, stop this. Do you really want to be petty at a time like this?"

"We all know that I'm a cold, heartless bitch, so why does it even matter to you, Roger?" He finally caught up with me and grabbed my shoulders, spinning me around to face him.

"Don't say things like about yourself."

"Why not? You say things like that about me all the time." He looked wounded, and I took off again, leaving him in the dust, but I couldn't stand to face the suppressed hurt from the millions of poisonous words that he had shot at me since April died. I continued to walk all around Alphabet City, anywhere he could have possibly gone, feeling defeated and utterly exhausted, sat down on the stage at what had once been my performance space.

"HOW DID I GET HERE?" Exasperated, I collapsed backwards on the stage, now lying down, looking at the world behind me from an upside down point of view. _So much like my life. That's poetic…that's pathetic._

"I'm guessing you walked." There was an upside down figure before me…_no wait, I'm upside down._ I flopped over onto my stomach, looking up at the man before me.

"GAH! Mr. Cohen! Hi!" He was looking me over, judging me. And he could tell that I'd just been pregnant…it was fairly obvious. Clearly he knew nothing of it. I'd met the man only once before in my life, and knew that he despised me, probably mostly because I was neither Jewish nor conventional in any sense of the word, in addition to the fact that he never liked anyone or anything having to do with Mark…_maybe since I broke Marky's heart?_ "Um…what're you…doing here? I mean, it _is_ a free country and all, but…we don't usually see you around here, and come to think of it…we haven't seen Marky around in a few days…wait, do you know where he is?" He looked utterly overwhelmed by my fast babbling, and took a moment to digest everything that I had just said, finally realizing I had asked him a question.

"Oh, yes. That is why I am here. Mark has come back home. He doesn't want contact with you. He wanted you to think he was gone."

"What? Why?"

"He says that your relationship is unhealthy. I can only assume that he meant for you. However, I do not think that Mark is making a wise decision."

"I don't think so either…he left me a note before he disappeared, and I was so scared for him…I thought that he was going to kill himself or something, but I went into labor and…"

"It was Mark's child, was it not?" I sighed. Mr. Cohen probably thought we should get married. I was with Joanne, and Mark was against everything that his father said.

"Yeah. It was Mark's."

"What about your…erm…life partner?"

"Joanne? We had broken up at the time. But now we're back together." Mark's father looked utterly in shock at my love life, and probably, more likely, at the fact that Mark could have fallen in love with me so deeply. "Mr. Cohen…"

"Look, Maureen, the only reason I came here was to see what he was hiding from. I wanted to know what he was leaving behind. It seems that he was right to leave, because he isn't going to be missed."

"Are you crazy? I love Mark more than anyone in the world except for Joanne. He is my best friend, and he has saved my life more times than I deserved, and I always thought that he should have just let me die, because I am such a worthless person and he is so inherently good. He is the father of my child, for crying out loud—you do believe that the child should know her father, right? None of us can live without Marky…especially since…oh lord, I'm sure you don't give a damn about Collins' death. But as long as Mark is okay, I guess…whatever he wants…is…fine." I was trying hard to keep hot tears of rage from showing themselves to Mark's father, but when I got to talking about Collins, and thinking about my life without Mark, I couldn't stand it. As soon as I finished, I ran away…didn't know where I was going, I just ran.

A couple of hours later, I found myself sitting on the stoop in front of my parents' house in Long Island, just sobbing. In reality, it only should've taken an hour to get there, but I hadn't intended to go home. I just didn't know where else to go—I started to go to Scarsdale, but decided I should give Mark a couple of days, maybe bring Marcie when I went to visit him. I couldn't believe that after leaving this place, my life had changed so much. I hadn't been back since I left, hadn't seen my parents in ten years. And yet here I was.

"Maureen? Is that you?"

"Mom?" She looked concerned. I couldn't blame her. But she had no idea what was going on. I knew when I told her, she would want me to marry Mark, and we would never agree. It was ridiculous that after I had pushed her out of my life for such a long time that she would embrace me without question, comfort me even though she knows nothing of what I've been through. _I banish my mother, but she holds me when I cry._

"Honey, come inside. It's freezing out here. Your tears will freeze to your face." I giggled, remembering how she used to tell me silly things like that when I was a child. I missed the peacefulness of being a child, with nothing expected of me, although I still think that no one understands how lonely it is to be a child.

"Okay. I should call Joanne…I think I left my cell at the loft. I'm sorry to just show up like this…I won't be staying for long, but things were getting a little bit too crazy…"

"Maureen. You don't need to apologize for coming home. We've missed you." The words stung, hurt worse than angry words would have. At least I would have been able to fight anger. The sadness and longing that I saw in her eyes broke my heart. We had never gotten along that well, and of course I had always felt that they loved my sister more than me. Why shouldn't they have? She was beautiful, soft-spoken, obedient--everything that I could never be. _I don't believe I'm beautiful but at least I have my sister's smile…_ It hadn't occurred to me that they could love me simply for being their child, even if I was so horrible to them. And maybe my father would feel differently, he would probably provide the anger that I was expecting, but for the moment I felt utterly despicable. _Of course I would manage to hurt the one person in the world who is supposed to love me unconditionally. And yet she will forgive me so easily…for the moment. Then we'll get into a fight and she'll kick me out again…but she can't this time, because I don't live here anymore…this chapter of my life is pretty much finished…_I walked into the house, feeling utterly out of place, but seeing pictures of myself and my sister everywhere…which was a recent development. They probably had just realized that they had failed us, lost us…_and yet, here I am._


	20. Chapter 20

"Hey Pookie!" She had finally picked up her cell after I had failed to make a connection twice.

"MAUREEN! Where _are_ you? We've been worried sick about you. Roger was going out of his mind--"

"I'm sorry…I just…I ran into Mark's dad…"

"What did he say? Where are you now?"

"Mark…um…he…wanted us to…think he was dead." I was crying again. _Fuck. This has got to stop._

"What? Why would he do something like that? Are you okay?"

"Well, no. I'm not okay. I feel so responsible for this, although I am really relieved that he is okay. His dad is such a jerk! Mark wouldn't have gone back there unless he felt really awful. You know how much he hates his parents! So his father made me cry, and I just started running…and I didn't know where I was going…and then the next thing I knew…I was back in Hicksville. At my parents' house. And I don't know what I am doing here—I thought I was done with them. But I just…things are so fucked up Pookie…I don't…I don't know what I'm doing anymore."

"Oh, honey, it's okay. It'll take some time, but we will figure this all out. I'm here for you—we still have each other, and we _are_ going to get Mark back. And we have this beautiful baby of yours…she's an angel…"

"Oh Joanne…I'm so sorry…I should be there…"

"Honey, it's okay. You take your time. Mimi and I can take care of her—even Roger is completely enamored with her." _Collins should be alive for this. He would have loved her…I miss him. It's not fair…I can't believe he's gone. I almost forgot—I wondered why she didn't mention his name…oh God…he can't be dead! I need him…and I need Mark. Mark is a fool for leaving. I have nobody. No, shut up. I have Joanne…I love Joanne. Joanne. Then we can get my Marky back…_ "Honeybear? You still there?"

"Sorry. Yeah. I'm here. Falling apart, but I'm still here."

"Honey, you need to talk to me. I know that Collins was your life support, and Mark was too…but you need to learn to use me. I love you Maureen! I will do anything for you…but you have to let me in." I was left speechless, the hurt blatantly obvious in Joanne's voice, and I realized how little I actually shared with the woman with whom I planned to spend the rest of my life. "So will you let me into your head?" I opened my mouth to speak but closed it again. _What should I tell her? Do I really want to be getting into this over the phone?_

"Joanne? I really don't understand how can put up with me. I want to let you in. But I can't do it over the phone. I'm going to come back home tomorrow and we can talk, but I think that I am going to stay here tonight to try to sort myself out. Is there any way that you can get out of work?"

"Yes, darling. That is fine. Whatever you need. I will just call in sick tomorrow, sweetie. I'm really worried about you—you've been so distant ever since…"

"Christmas Eve. It was Christmas Eve when this all started. I was thinking back to my Cyberland protest…anyway, I have to get off the phone now before my mother starts screaming—that's the last thing that I need right now. I'll call you tomorrow morning when I am about to leave."

"Alright then, Honeybear. If you need anything before then, you know that you can always call. Please, I'm begging you, honey; stop hiding your pain from me. I want to help you." _I am truly an awful person. I run away without telling anyone where I am going, I can't tell my girlfriend when I need her, and I destroy everything and everyone in my path. I'm a human tornado. What has gotten into me? Have I always been like this?_

"Good night, Pookie."


	21. Chapter 21

"Maureen? Are you off the phone yet?" I spun around to see my mother standing in the doorway with a plate of cookies. _What the fuck? It's like I've entered the twilight zone or something…_

"Um…yeah. What's all this?" I gestured to the plate in her hands. She indicated that I should sit on the couch, and she sat in a chair, which was positioned across the coffee table from the sofa that I had flopped down on.

"Oh…I…uh…was wondering if we could have sort of a heart to heart." _Again, what the fuck? What is this? Pleasantville?_ Even through the commercially accepted suburban ways that my mother had adopted, and the softness she was attempting which contrasted sharply with her conservative principles and stoicism.

"Um…sure." I could tell that she was embarrassed by her Hallmark impression of family bonding, but I could also see the longing in her eyes. _This is something that we have never attempted before. It will be weird for you, Maureen, but try not to blow it. Of course, should you blow it…she isn't a part of your life anymore._

"You seem to have…um…gained some weight." I blushed, and didn't know what to say. She clearly could tell that something was not right, but I didn't want to spring that on her right away. I didn't want to cause a scene right off the bat, however I had to say something.

"Yeah. I had a baby…" She looked puzzled, knowing that Joanne and I had gotten together again, obviously, since I had called her, but she didn't pry. She was clearly trying as hard as I was to keep things civil. I offered a little bit more information. "She's beautiful…just had her a few days ago, actually…and I should have gone back home to her…her name's Marcie." My mother looked increasingly uncomfortable, not knowing what I had run away from, or why I was back. I got the impression that she could tell the child was Mark's, or was at least suspicious, so I came right out and said it, which caused me to break down in tears. This was where the line was drawn. Physical closeness and embraces and comfort were awkward in my home, not very frequent occurrences, though when I was younger, she would hold me when I cried. After ten years, though I knew that she could forgive me, she was more than hesitant to hold me. _I need Marky…he knows how to make me feel better…I've got to get out of here!_ "Mom, this has been great, but I have to go…"

"But honey…"

"I'll call. We can catch up another time. Now is _really_ not a good time." I ran out of the house as fast as my legs could carry me, not looking back to see the hurt and heartbreak on my mother's face…and I ran. The next thing I knew, I was sitting on a bus, in Scarsdale, at midnight. I stood up, getting off of the bus in a daze, partly groggy from having been sleeping, exhausted from the depth of my emotion, and just plain out of it. Before I knew it, I was standing in front of Mark's parents' house. I threw a rock at his window, and continued until I saw the light in his room go on. He stuck his head out of the window angrily, probably forgetting that he was in a quiet suburb as opposed to the noisy city, which we were all so accustomed to. When he saw me, he looked scared. _Great, here come the waterworks again._ I started sobbing, but sleep deprivation and exhaustion slowly began to take over, and I started to feel lightheaded, and since I was sobbing, unable to breathe properly and regain composure. I was vaguely aware of Mark's arms wrapping around me as I slipped into unconsciousness.

I awoke the next morning in Mark's childhood bed, seeing that he had set up a Snoopy sleeping bag on the ground. _Aww._ I realized that he was awake and had been watching me sleep. He blushed deeply when I caught him, and came and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Hey Maureen. How do you feel?" He looked truly concerned.

"I'm okay I guess. Because I have you." He blinked, puzzled. "Marky, why'd you leave us?" He sighed and lay down beside me.

"I was making life hard for you. And I couldn't stand to watch Collins die…"

"Eleven fifty-eight Thursday night." His eyes started to tear up, and suddenly he was lost in sobs like a child, burying his face in my chest. A few tears escaped the corners of my eyes, but I held him tightly being the strong one for once. After a long while, he recovered and pulled back.

"I didn't want to complicate things between you and Joanne. And I wanted you to get mad me like you did April, hate me, think that I was out of the picture…I didn't think that I would be missed." Hearing him say these words made my heart sink, throb. A sob escaped from my control, and he reached out a hand, touching my face, looking at me questioningly.

"Marky…you mean so much more to me than I could ever express to you. I am so sorry for continuing to mistreat you and not showing my love for you…but I needed you. Especially after Collins died…suddenly I had no lifeline—you and Collins were the only two people I could confide in. Then Joanne felt alienated because I have a hard time telling her things…Marky…please come back. You have to see Marcie…she's beautiful…it killed me that you weren't there…oh God Mark…I can't function without you…you're my best friend! You scared me…all of us." I moved away from him, tears spilling down my face. A look of pain, anger, and longing crossed his face.

"I don't know if that's enough, Maureen. I love you, but it's so hard for me to be satisfied with being your 'lifeline', as you say. And I don't want to watch everyone else die, except you and Marcie…you named her Marcie?" At this realization, his whole disposition softened.

"It's symbolic of her connection to you. A little piece of you that I can hold on to…like she is for you…please…she needs her father…we all need you." He looked away from me, and pulled me closer, hearing the pain in my voice, touched by the sentimental gesture of naming her after him.

"Maureen…you should leave." As if my phone agreed, it rang at that precise moment. _Shit. Joanne._ I answered it quickly, telling her I was leaving immediately.

"Yeah. I guess I should…but I don't want to leave not knowing when I will next get to see you…if you will ever see your daughter…"

"Maureen, I don't know if I can stand to see her being brought up by you and Joanne…"

"You'll always be her father. Nothing will change that. I want you to be that for her. You will be an amazing father, I know it…but first we need you to come back…she needs you."

"I think just need some time to sort things out."

"Don't stay away too long…or I'll have to come back." I pouted, pleading with him wordlessly to return with me, letting him know that I hadn't meant what I said, that I needed him now.. He looked torn.

"No. It will only lead to more heartbreak. It isn't fair to you."

"How so?"

"Fine. Maybe it's only unfair to me. You shouldn't have come out here. Going back wouldn't be good for me. Seeing our daughter and wondering what might have been if I were somehow different, better. If I were enough for you. It was selfish to leave, even though I let myself believe it was for you. I didn't want to face reality." I got the impression that he didn't mean what he was saying entirely, knowing that I still had power over him, and I knew that he wanted to see her…he wanted to raise her. I looked into his eyes, showing him my desperation, seeing his longing, knowing he wanted to not only make me happy (as he always did) and see Marcie, he wanted to get the out of this hellhole called Scarsdale.

"So will you come back with me?" I made puppy dog eyes at him, and a couple of tears actually managed to escape from my eyes. The hole in my heart that his absence paired with Collins' death had caused was unbearable, and beyond just being selfish, I really needed him in my life. He was in many ways my other half, and I depended on him more than I would ever admit, in a platonic way, even though our relationship was unconventional. Everything about my life was unconventional, and Joanne was finally getting used to the idea. _God, I have to get home to talk to her. Maybe it will be easier for me now that Mark is back…I hope._

"Alright. Just…don't tell them about this." He sounded defeated, but simultaneously somehow relieved. I promised, and we walked to the train station in silence, after taking some money from the coffee can on the refrigerator and leaving a note for Mark's parents, saying he had decided it was time to leave.

**From the author:** I don't know how I feel about this chapter...opinions? Please review--tell me if it sucks, too. You better review, or I might not update...muahaha :)


	22. Chapter 22

Mark and I had parted our ways once we got back to the city, I returned to Joanne's while he went back to the loft to make his presence known. As I approached the apartment, I began to feel extremely nervous, almost to the point of nausea. I heard Marcie crying as I approached the door, took a deep breath, and placed my hand on the doorknob. After attempting to regain my composure for a moment, I pushed the door open.

What I saw was not at all what I had expected, and I could help but laugh. There was Joanne, dancing around with the little baby, singing—trying to get her sorrow to subside. It was the cutest thing I had seen in a very long time, and one of the first times that I had actually seen Joanne relaxed, though albeit exhausted and slightly irritated. Despite all of that, I could tell that she truly loved the child—my child. She didn't see me come in, and I didn't announce my arrival, just stood there in a euphoric state of bliss—soaking it up because such moments were so rare. After about five minutes or so, she continued to rock the baby, now softly lulling her to sleep, and placed her in the crib. Then she noticed my presence.

"Maureen, how long have you been standing there?" I smiled sweetly.

"Long enough to know that you, my dear, have fallen for my little Marcie." She looked a little embarrassed, but then grasped me in a huge hug, the severity of which was a little unexpected.

"Honeybear, I felt so lost without you. I missed you! And you had me worried sick! I thought…" I heard the sheer panic and desperation in her voice, and clutched her tighter to me, a lone tear trickling down my right cheek as I felt her body tremble, her tears beginning to soak through my hair and onto my neck. _Why am I such an awful girlfriend? To make her cry like this? Because she's worried about me, while I have no regard for her welfare? She deserves so much better than I can ever be._ I pulled away and walked over to watch the sleeping baby. _So beautiful…_Joanne walked up behind me and put and arm over my shoulders as we took in the beautiful little angel. I slid my arm around her waist and rested my head on her shoulder, contented to be taking in our new little family. _This is a brand new beginning…and yet we have so much old shit to work out still…I'm scared._ "Maureen, we need to talk." The now serious, harsh tone took me by surprise, and I separated from her quickly, looking at her inquisitively, trying to hide my utter terror, not knowing what specifically I had done this time (though I had some idea what this might be about), but feeling anxious all the same…

**Author's note:** Sorry this chapter is really short--I promise the next one will be longer...feedback, please!


	23. Chapter 23

Joanne guided me out of the bedroom, of course making sure that there was a baby monitor and everything, being the paranoid control freak that she was, though with regard to Marcie, I was glad for this quality, something that would have caused me, on my own, to be a horrible mother and probably end up killing the poor child. _God, I am such a horrible mother…_

"What's going on with you, Maureen?" We were seated at opposite sides of her coffee table—she sat on the couch, and I sat, slumped over and weary from my emotional and physical journey,in a black leather recliner.

"What do you mean?" She stared me down as though it were the most obvious thing in the world, condescending to me.

"You barely speak to me, every moment you look as though you are about to break down, hopelessly depressed, Mark disappears and you are nowhere to be found? Come on, you may be irresponsible, but it has never been this bad before." I looked down at my hands and took a sudden interest in picking at my nail polish.

"I don't know what's going on." I tried to push my grief to the back of my mind, suppress further my feelings of loss over Collins' death and the various other events of the previous week, and then the past year, then my entire life, realizing how rarely I had felt free enough, comfortable enough to release my pain, how I had been avoiding rupturing my heart, not wanting to show the world my pain. My breakdown, the day when I had tried so passionately to do away with myself, I had finally realized the weight of my life, and after all of the tears that I had shed, I thought that the pain was behind me, but now as more stresses presented themselves to me, I became aware that I had never dealt with my emotions—I had always just hidden myself beneath smiles, sexuality and anarchy—beneath my art. Despite this realization, I didn't want to reveal this to Joanne. _I should feel safe with her…she is my girlfriend…she has been my girlfriend for over ten years and I can't break down in front of her?_ I didn't look up to see the hurt on her face. I was treating her with the cool, unfeeling demeanor with which I had frequently treated Mark after I broke up with him, though by now he had learned to see beyond this disguise. I couldn't tell whether or not Joanne could see through me, as she produced no audible response, and I was still addressing my fire engine red nails rather than my lover. Joanne attempted to make her demeanor less intimidating, less agitated, but her true feelings lingered in the air whenever her voice emerged from the complex web of pain, sorrow, jealousy, anger, relief that I was home, suspicion about whether I had really been at my mother's house, hatred for not being able to trust me…she was trying so hard just to be able to talk to me objectively. Her strained manner scared me, because could feel her emotions building up, and I didn't know from one moment to the next whether she was going to blow up or break down. "I got restless last night. I went to go find Mark. I convinced him to come back here…" She sighed, not knowing what to think.

"Did you sleep with him?" Stunned, I stared at her, offended. She quickly began to apologize, but I realized that I had no right to expect her to trust me.

"Joanne…I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For having broken your trust so many times. And expecting you to still love me." Astonished, she rose and crouched down in front of my chair, putting her hands over mine, stopping the frantic way that I was picking at my nails and looked up into my eyes. She looked truly sympathetic now, my hurt at the honest to goodness truth and error of my ways a bit much for her to handle. She couldn't be angry with me…just disappointed. Gently, warmly she said it. The one thing that I longed to here, her eyes reflecting everything I had been longing for, her all over demeanor making me feel the honesty and depth of her words washing over my for probably the first time in my life.

"I will always love you." Overwhelmed, I broke, freeing my hands from hers, drawing my knees up to my face, curling up into ball, my face hot and slick with tears as I howled, grieving Collins' death for the first real time because I felt safe enough with someone else. The large black woman stroked my hair gently; cooing, not knowing what was wrong or what to do. After a long while, when I was able to breathe normally, my eyes and throat raw, my body aching, she asked me what was wrong, and when I was unable to speak, she simply held me, in a somewhat awkward position as I was still sitting on the chair, and she was squatting down before me. I felt like a small child as she gently lifted me and carried me into the bedroom, drifting between sleep and consciousness, gently setting me down on the bed, and tucking me in. I let out and involuntary giggle and pulled her in close, kissing her passionately, suddenly energized, longing for a connection. I didn't want to feel alone; I wanted to feel, physically, her love, to feel her warmth on my body, love coursing through my veins. I had to restrain myself to proceed quietly. It was amazing that Marcie hadn't been awakened when I was sobbing, and I certainly didn't want to wake her now. _So _that_ is why they call it making love…so much more than sex. Sex doesn't have to be shallow. I never thought it had been with her…but it seems I never realized how much I separated myself from her…but now I never want her to leave me. This is exactly where I need to be._ We lay there for a long time, limbs entwined in a passionate and loving embrace.

"Joanne, I will always love you," I whispered softly after she had fallen asleep, kissing her forehead, somehow energized. I carefully disentangled myself from her, and wandered around the apartment, looking for something to do, feeling the contentment drainfrom my body as I heard my cell phone vibrate violently from my purse as I neared the kitchen table…


	24. Chapter 24

I walked over to the table and hesitantly looked at the number that appeared. _Mark._ I flipped the phone open.

"Hello?"

"Maureen?"

"Yeah?" I tried to take the irritated tone out of my voice with little success, and sighed. He sounded scared, though I couldn't tell why, and remained silent for a long moment—I almost thought he had hung up by the time he finally spoke again.

"Are we okay?" I was astonished by this question. _It's 3 in the morning and he calls to ask me that?_

"Of course we are, sweetie. Is that the only reason that you called?" He remained silent again for a while.

"I…uh…I'm not…sure why I called…I just…" His voice faltered, and my heart melted.

"Marky…what's wrong? Are you okay?" I heard him sniffling on the other end, and concern rose in the back of my mind, unsure what was bothering him. _For Christ's sake! This is like talking to a three-year-old. You love him, but it's frustrating as hell not to know what's wrong._ He finally croaked out and unconvincing response.

"Yeah…I'll be fine…just go back to sleep." He sounded defeated, hurt, weary and somewhat desperate. I couldn't help but feel that it was my fault for having dragged him along like this in all of the long years since we had broken up.

"Are you sure, honey? I can come over there if you want-"

"NO!" His rash answer scared and surprised me, and I knew that something wasn't right. He tried to fix his slip, "I mean…no, you shouldn't—you need your rest. Mark had never been one to interrupt me…_unless there is something he doesn't want me know._ "Just…Maureen…you know that I love you, right?"

"Marky…"

"Well, do you?" Anxiousness was building up in his voice, which did nothing to ease my uneasiness.

"Of course I do, Mark, and I love you too, but…"

"But what?"

"Honey, what's going on? What's wrong?" I heard Roger pounding on what I presumed to be the door to whatever room that Mark was in, which it sounded like he then broke down. It seemed as though then the phone was dropped to the ground, because I couldn't hear anything more. "You guys? What the fuck is going on? Mark? Roger? HELLO?" I desperately screamed into the phone, seriously freaking out now. I must have woken Marcie and Joanne in my distress because the baby started screaming at the exact moment that a very groggy, irritated Joanne emerged. Joanne went to take care of the child as I continued to try to get a response from the other end. I heard Roger screaming and Mark crying, apologizing for something, then all I heard was Roger…sobbing? "WHAT'S HAPPENING?" I heard him pick up the phone. "Roger?"

"Maureen?"

"Roger…what's going on over there?" His voice cracked when he finally managed to respond.

"He…oh God, Mo…just…meet me at the hospital." I drew in my breath sharply. _This is too familiar…this can't happen. I'm such a selfish bitch. What was I thinking doing this to him?_


	25. Chapter 25

**AN-** Thanks for the great reviews! And...here's your update :) ENJOY!

I told Joanne what was happening, and she informed me that though she "wanted" to come with me to find out what was going on with Mark, she "thought it would be better" if she stayed with Marcie. I then had pointed out that somebody at the hospital would be able to look after her. Grumbling and still in a state of half-sleep gathered Marcie's things as I continued to panic, pacing frantically. We were both irritable and at each other's throats without even intending to be, and the entire cab ride was filled with pointless arguing that need not have occurred. When I worry, I say things that I don't mean, unable to focus, about to snap whenever anyone addresses me. My hands shook, my entire body in a state of distress, fighting me all the way, too preoccupied to keep up light conversation; Joanne was too tired and preoccupied with the baby to notice or probably even comprehend fully the situation, trying to perpetuate airy chatter to keep from falling asleep. _How can we love each other so much and be so incredibly different? Oh yeah, because I don't like who I am, and she doesn't like who she is…but we like each other. Weird, I guess…what the hell am I thinking about this for?_

"Honeybear, we're here." She was waving a hand in front of my face, which brought my eyes and brain back into focus.

"Oh. Okay."

"You okay in there?" I sighed and shook my head, pushing myself out of the cab. I walked beside her, and she put her free arm over my shoulder (Marcie being in the other), and pulled me close to her, rubbing my back reassuringly every now and again as we walked into the building. I spotted Roger immediately, and free myself from Joanne, running up to him frantically.

"Roger what's going on?" He was crying, and pulled me closer to him in a desperate hug. "It's bad, isn't it?" He nodded, his face still buried in my chest. I pulled back a little, looking him objectively in the eyes. "What happened?"

"He…" Roger couldn't seem to find the words to express the painful events that had occurred, and simply held out a needle, rubber band, and razor blade.

"Is depressive when he's high? What?" I asked sarcastically, harshly, immediately regretting what I had said. "I'm sorry Rog…I didn't mean it." He nodded, understanding yet incapable of speech, too traumatized probably to fully absorb what I had said.

"I…we…Mimi and I…we were…using again…and he…came…he came back…" He collapsed in fresh wave of sorrow, and I held him tightly until it subsided.

"Why'd you do it?"

"I…she…wouldn't stop…and…I just…oh God…I don't know…"

"Shh…it's okay." _Mark did this because…what? Put the pieces of the puzzle together…he…when he left, Roger and Mimi started using again…he sacrificed a lot to make Roger stop…like me…and his life…he felt useless again…oh! That's it! He is afraid of being useless and unwanted! Watching things go to hell with no control! Watching his dreams and nightmares played out before him—his daughter raised by the woman he loves and her girlfriend, his greatest fear for Roger and Mimi killing themselves with smack._ I continued to hold Roger, trying to console him…_he had no way of knowing, but at the same time…he has known Mark for a while…but this revelation—nobody else was there when I went to find him in Scarsdale…that conversation…I shouldn't have let him go back alone. He needed me. He needed me and I was too blind to see, to rapped up in my new little family…holy fuck, I completely overlooked, took him for granted. After telling his father that would never happen, after telling Mark that _I_ needed _him. "Rog, can we see him?" He cleared his throat, seeming to have found his voice again.

"Uh…yeah. They had to give him a lot of blood and stuff…but they finished that a while ago. Uh…you're his wife and…I'm his brother…I haven't quite worked out Joanne and Mimi yet." I nodded slowly, and he gripped my hand tightly, slowly leading me to Mark's room, pausing outside the door. "Mo…I know this is going to be really hard for you…you know, since you…well, anyway…"

"Rog…I'll be okay…we've all been through a lot. Especially dealing with…this. I'll be okay…just…come with me. We can support each other. And him." He wrapped an arm around my waist, and I willingly moved closer to him as we hesitantly pushed the door open…


	26. Chapter 26

**_Author's note:_** All of your wonderful comments and ideas have been duly noted-- keep the feedback coming! I really appreciate it all-- it keeps me inspired :)

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The sight of Mark just lying there, looking so childlike and innocent, was heart wrenching when taken in context. How could such an angelic looking creature want to die? _Could this really be my fault? Now I know what it must have felt like for him when I was in his place. Absolutely petrifying. Could that have contributed to this?_ Mark woke up, his eyes opening hesitantly, at first he looked a little confused, and then he saw Roger and I holding tightly onto one another, taking in the sight of him in the bed, the bandages, the IV, just crying and overwhelmed, and I recognized the look that crossed his eyes. It was the "oh fuck, I'm still here" look. His eyes locked with mine, and pure terror washed over him, which startled me.

"Maureen, I didn't want you to see me like this."

"What? And dead would have been so much better?" Rage started to build up within me against my better judgment. Roger, sensing this, looked at me with warning in his eyes. I sighed. "Look…Marky…I'm sorry that I fucked up your life like this. I really am. And I don't meant to sound selfish or anything, but I really need you. You stood by me through everything. I'm sorry that I am so needy all the time, that I keep dragging you along…but how can I know what you need if you won't talk to me? If you won't even talk to Roger?"

"I didn't want to keep hurting you. I didn't want to keep hurting everyone. And Roger and Mimi made it very obvious that—that my efforts have been wasted--"

"Roger didn't--" I realized that I couldn't think of anything to say, but thankfully, Roger spoke for himself.

"Mark, what I did last night was a mistake. I don't know what came over me."

"Grief, Roger. You don't know how to deal. I thought that rehab had helped you to find better ways of coping."

"But if you realized that in your absence I would resort to that—which I am not saying is completely true, but if that's what you thought…wouldn't it make you want to stick around?" Roger seemed livid now, enraged, which I had discovered long before April's suicide was his way of dealing with grief. He didn't want to show his weakness, especially in the face of something perceived as weak and pathetic as attempted suicide, which was why it had stuck me as being so weird that he had been compassionate after I had attempted it. I didn't think about why that might be, considering that I probably wouldn't have been satisfied at the answer, and just let it remain as a sweet gesture—an act of compassion. Those were rare enough from Roger that nobody ever bothered to analyze them. Roger had moved closer to the bed, and was talking in a reasonably calm manner, no longer holding my hand, so I left the room silently, going off in search of Joanne and Marcie, didn't know what else I could do, for the first time realizing I had been so wrapped up in concern for the baby's father that I had yet to spend any amount of time with her. It felt wrong that Joanne had such a strong bond with my daughter, while I had scarcely taken the time to hold her (and Mark hadn't even seen her), much less be a proper mother to the poor girl. I attributed this to my fear of failure, the knowledge that I would make a terrible mother. I never did find Joanne, but I found the room that Marcie had been put in, along with some other babies, but off to the side. I told the nurse that I was her mother, and she seemed to believe that much more than when Joanne had dropped her off, not that the nurse could really challenge the validity of the statement. Apparently Joanne had something about Marcie being adopted. _I wonder if she wants to adopt her? I wonder how Mark would feel about that…who am I kidding? He would die…no, is death bad. Don't think about death…_ I took the tiny child in my arms, feeling like I was going to drop her, scared out of my mind. _Have I even held her since I got out of the hospital? Have I even seen her when she was awake?_ At first glance, the child was hesitant, but when I spoke, she seemed to remember my voice. _Well, at least nine months in my womb counts for something…_when she began to cry, I didn't know what to do, realizing, of course, that I had never had to deal with it before. I tried everything that I could think of—rocking, bouncing, dancing around like an idiot as I had seen Joanne doing the other night, and nothing seemed to be working. Finally, I resorted to singing the first thing that came into my head, which ended up being the little song from my Cyberland protest, which actually managed to calm her down, to my surprise. _God, I didn't even know that I still remembered that…_so I was walking back to Mark's room, gently singing the lines of comical frustration that I had so passionately sung my heart out with so many years ago, this time so softly, so soothingly that if you hadn't been listening to the words, you would have thought it a lullaby, and just as I got to the part about mooing—the end of the "song", I walked into Mimi, being that I hadn't been watching where I was going very carefully, too enamored with my child to notice the rest of the world. Mimi looked distressed, out of sorts.

"Mimi, what's wrong sweetie?" She blinked a few times, as if registering the word that had come out of my mouth, recognizing that they were actual words, not just a dull murmur.

"Oh, nothing."

"You do realize that there is no way that I am going to believe that, right?"

"I was afraid of that."

"Meems, what's going on?" Marcie began to stir, although this time rocking seemed to suffice, which I sort of suspected that it would because I was still speaking—she seemed to be comforted by my voice, though I couldn't quite tell why, as I hadn't been around essentially since she had exited my birth canal, but it was ridiculously comforting to know that she recognized and trusted me at least to a certain extent.

"I don't know exactly…Joanne and Mark somehow managed to get into a fight after we managed to get let into his room—it's amazing what a little cleavage can get you in this place—but, anyway, she was saying something about you loving him more and something, something…before storming out. I was going out to try to find her…but I guessed I must have spaced a little." _I can't believe that she would have the nerve to say something like that—suicide is not a matter to be taken lightly…and though I love her to death, is just doesn't seem to be a concept that she can comprehend, she can't understand how difficult it is for me—for all of us. She is awful in situations involving death and sickness, though I can't quite seem to figure out why—it's not like she's willing to talk about these things…I hope at least she can share these things with her psychologist because even though she has been seeing this person for a very long time, she still doesn't seem to be able to cope with anything. I worry about her…_

"You feeling okay honey? No offense, but you don't look so hot…" She placed her hand on the wall in an attempt to steady herself.

"Yeah, I'm fine—it's just the smack, you know?" Marcie seemed to be quite upset with this response, and she wouldn't seem to settle down, no matter how hard I tried. Eventually I gave up and continued my conversation despite the wailing child.

"Why'd you use?" Mimi's eyes changed quickly from amusement at my plight, to a frighteningly dark, clouded and pained expression that I couldn't read. "Sweetie? What's going on?" She let out a massive sigh, her eyes dropping to the floor as she started erasing a scuff from a rubber-soled shoe.

"You know…I guess…I knew what I was doing…I know that stuff will kill me…I never thought that it was such a big deal, but…Roger and I…we can't…" Suddenly it dawned on me, and I felt like a complete idiot standing before her as I was with my dissatisfied daughter.

"Oh, honey…I'm so sorry…I didn't even know that you were--"

"Trying? Yeah."

"Oh, sweetie…you must hate me. Come here." I embraced Mimi with my left arm while simultaneously holding Marcie in my right. As soon as Mimi was within my embrace, she began sobbing violently as I tried to soothe her. It must have been quite a sight—Maureen, the Drama Queen comforting a screaming infant and a depressed ex-S&M dancer/druggie who couldn't conceive. I felt like I was drowning in quicksand, like the most horrible person ever to live. Here I was, a sad excuse for a mother, who couldn't even manage to console her child, who was born of an accidental conception from a one-night mistake, feeling sorry for myself while one of my best friends was trying desperately conceive a child, knowing full well that the delivery of the child could end her own life. _How can I be so selfish?_


	27. Chapter 27

**AN-** Sorry I haven't updated in a while. Busy week, then Friday was my birthday, Saturday I was in the city-- saw RENT (the cast is decent, they all have amazing voices, but I still find that I miss the original), but anyway, here is a short update. Keep the comments coming!

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Still feeling guilty, I lead Mimi back to the waiting area closest Mark's room and we tended to Marcie, in all her cuteness. In different context, I am sure that I would have at least considered giving Marcie up to Roger and Mimi, particularly knowing that they probably didn't have long left together, before one or both of them finally kicked the bucket, however, (and you can blame this on my being a selfish drama queen, or whatever you want) I couldn't bring myself to do that. It seemed too much that Mark, Joanne and myself needed the child in order to keep us alive and functioning, trying to find a way to live with all of the fast paced drama that was keeping us constantly on our toes. She was at least the goodness in the midst of this confusion. Roger emerged from Mark's room shortly after we had situated ourselves there, looking both hurt and steamed. Mimi immediately rushed up to him, asking him what had happened, comforting him. Not wanting to get in the way, I decided that it was about time Mark got to meet his daughter.

"I said go away!" I had only opened the door a crack, and I knew that he couldn't see me. _He must be really pissed at Roger…_

"It's me."

"Maureen?" Marcie began to stir at the unfamiliar sound of his voice, curious. I pushed the door open the rest of the way and sat on the side of his bed as he continued to stare at me in a state of utter disbelief.

"Mark, this is Marcie…your daughter." I don't think that his eyes could have possibly bulged anymore out of their sockets, he was so shocked that I would have brought the baby there, which was understandable considering that he hadn't wanted me to see him in this state—I could sense that he was ashamed of his actions, and I watched silent tears roll down his face. "Would you like to hold her?" He sat up a bit more in his and nervously rubs the back of his neck.

"Uh…I mean…I…uh…what if I drop her?" I rolled my eyes.

"You won't drop her. I know you, and what's more, I trust you. Although, I do sympathize—I thought I was going to drop her, too. But I didn't. And I'm less reliable than you are. Plus, you're not even standing up, so it would be kinda hard to drop her." He sighed into submission; though a huge smile spread over his face as he cradled the tiny child in his arms, and she seemed to be smiling back at him, perfectly content, not at all fussy. They looked like they fit together, and it was almost the perfect picture, I mean, aside from the fact that he had just tried to kill himself, which would have been somehow supposedly for my sake. His face glowed with love, happiness and the satisfaction that came from having been able to produce something so wonderful, the wonderment of the miracle of life. I could tell that he regretted not having been there for her birth, but more importantly he was grateful that I had cared enough to find him and care for him such that he could see her, he was grateful to Roger for having saved him from bleeding to death on the bathroom floor because just for this moment, all was right with the world.


	28. Chapter 28

"Mark…I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have dragged you back into a life that you weren't ready for…but I didn't know what to do after Collins died….and a life partner who is too busy at work or otherwise too difficult for me to talk to about everything…especially sometimes when she is the problem…or I'm the problem, but I need help with something regarding her…and I know that it isn't fair to you…but I…I just didn't know what else to do…I still don't. I hate to think that I brought this on you…I should have made sure that you were okay." I could tell that he was only half listening at first, but when he noticed the tears that were streaming down my face, he looked away from the child, addressing me with great concern. I regretted breaking the silence, because I didn't want to have to end such a beautiful moment between father and daughter, knowing that the formation of that bond was one of the most influential on a girl. Not that Mark could have possibly been a bad father, no matter what, because he was just too sweet of a boy…too perfect. He slid over, and I sat down beside him on the bed, and for a long moment we were taken by the feeling of family, the Kodak moment. Then finally he broke the silence.

"Maureen, I'm not sorry that you convinced me to come back. Actually, I have never been able to be mad at you for anything, which is sort of why Roger gets so pissed at you. But regardless, you were right. Running away is not the solution it promises to be. I should have known better—I told Roger not to run away all those years ago. But when I got back to the loft and they were using again, it was all too much—they had been doing so well, you know…Mimi had gotten her GED after so much struggling and studying, having failed out of school when she was younger made it so hard…Roger was finally getting his act together…little gigs, but still they pay…they're married, too! I thought they were so happy. I just don't understand why they would throw it all away. I couldn't just stand there and watch everything that I've worked for fall to pieces…I can't be the strong one anymore. I haven't had a girlfriend in the past eleven years. ELEVEN, Maureen. When Roger and Mimi die, everything I have worked to preserve will be gone. And I will have nothing." I couldn't bring myself to tell him what Mimi had told me, I feared that it would make things worse. I could, however, offer something that he was overlooking…someone.

"You'll have Marcie." He nodded, though somewhat sadly.

"I wish I could have you…God Maureen…can't you see? I'm in love with you. I always will be. It's killing me the way that you are dragging me along here."

"I'm sorry Mark…I can't…I just…I can't!" I ran out of the room sobbing, pushing past the others, bumping into Roger, who muttered something that sounded like "drama queen" under his breath, which only served to make things worse. I ran head on into Joanne, almost knocking her over, but I couldn't stand to be with her right then, I needed to be alone. She looked confused, no doubt wondering where Marcie was, although it wouldn't be that hard for her to figure out I had left her with Mark. She looked unsure as to whether or not she should follow me, but I said nothing, just continued to run away. I didn't know where I was going, but I ran out of the hospital and kept going. I found myself in the graveyard, I had thrown myself down on top of Collins' grave, as if still unable to fathom that he was no longer with me. I was sobbing, screaming and pounding at the fresh dirt, unable to believe that it was real. Angel's grave sat beside his…it had only seemed right. I thought that I had been okay with his death…well, not completely okay, but I thought I would be able to handle it after watching his decline. It had been hard enough after Angel died, but that was somehow easier. Even though she had touched all of us so profoundly, we had only known her for such a short time before she passed. But Collins…he was my big brother. My protector. He always knew how to take care of me…he always cared enough to know when something was wrong. Even if I didn't want to hear it. I longed so much for one last hug…one of those big, warm embraces to reassure me…to tell me that everything was going to be all right. But I knew that I would never have that chance…I would never get what I wanted more than anything. Everything about the world seemed wrong since he died. This was the biggest sense of loss that I had ever felt in my life, even after I lost April, one of my best friends, my little sister. Even after losing Angel, who brought us all back together. Collins had been there for me every time that it mattered most…even when Mark was busy with Roger, even after I cheated on Mark, even after I dumped him for Joanne. He was still always there. Even when he was out of town, he would always manage to make the time for me. He made me feel like I actually mattered. My body wouldn't stop shaking, the sobs wracking my body, I couldn't breathe. I had never cried this hard in my life, ever. I never would have thought it possible to feel the amount of pain that I did, and knowing that nothing would ever make it better. Nothing would ever make it okay again. Out of necessity, having completely exhausted myself physically and emotionally, I was overtaken by a deep and dreamless sleep…


	29. Chapter 29

"Maureen? Is that you?" Roger's voice startled me, and I awoke completely disoriented, sitting up immediately. The sun was up, it was daytime, but I was outdoors. Then I remembered the events of the previous night and sighed.

"Yeah. It's me alright." He extended an arm to help me up from the ground.

"What are you doing over here? Are you okay?" I nodded. "We were looking for you everywhere."

"I'm sorry…it's just…my whole world keeps falling apart. And…now that…I just…how can he be gone, Roger? How? It's not fair!" _God, again with the waterworks!_ "I'm sorry Rog…"

"Shh. It's okay. I know how you feel." _Is it possible that he really knows how I feel? He's been through so much too…I guess so._

"Am I ever going to be okay again? Everything's so wrong…" He held me, and we stood there between Angel and Collins, just mourning, really grieving. After Angel's death, nobody had truly felt it, wanting to be strong for Collins. For over a decade we had gone on like that, and he had lived an amazingly long time, but now that Collins was gone, all of this grief that I didn't even know I had been hiding was coming out in the open. I imagined that Roger felt similarly, especially given that it took him a year to get over losing April, and as soon as he started living again, he had lost Angel. I had been distraught when April died, she had been one of my best friends, but he had really loved her. My loss in that situation didn't compare at all to his, and I wondered if now the roles were reversed, although it seemed selfish. Collins had truly been an amazing person, and he made time for all of us, almost like we were all his children, and everyone had a close bond to him, most of all Mark, Roger and myself.

"Maureen, why don't we go back to the loft and get you cleaned up." I looked down at myself, seeing that I was, obviously, covered in dirt from having been on Collins' grave for hours.

"Actually, I think I'm going to go back to my place to get cleaned up. Is Mark still at the hospital?" Roger looked at me a little skeptically.

"Yeah he is. Can I come with you?" I looked at him, puzzled, but agreed. I wasn't sure whether he didn't trust me to be on my own, or he was just lonely and hurting. I sensed that it was a combination of both, probably paired with him not trusting himself. He and Mimi had been acting a little awkward around each other at the hospital, though I could understand why…my heart truly broke for them, their inability to have a child. I knew that he and Mimi were about to break out into a fight, saying things that neither of them meant because of the heartbreak that they were enduring. They had a tendency always to grow apart when something painful happened before realizing how much more they loved each other. Their form of communication had completely baffled me until I realized that Joanne and I do the same thing.

"You know, Roger, we don't ever get to talk anymore."

"I know. I miss that. I miss the way things used to be…before April. Those were good times." I looked at Roger, his green eyes piercing my own, our eyes perfectly mirroring each other, the pain, grief, sadness, longing, nostalgia, regret…it was a very pregnant moment. He put his arm around my shoulders, and I laced mine around his waist, and we walked together like the two fantastic friends that we used to be…_only Mark isn't here with his camera…_we had so many great times together, just the three of us. Especially before Mark and I started dating…maybe that was really what changed everything…if Roger hadn't felt so alone, so much like a third wheel…I mean, Benny was already pulling away from us by then, Collins off at MIT or wherever…running through the Parthenon naked…studying philosophy…whatever his desire was at the moment. Roger might not have run to April…but even so, things were bound to change, weren't they? I mean, even if I didn't break Mark's heart, something else would've happened…and if Roger didn't have AIDS, he and Mimi would be less compatible…but what if everything worked out for the better? _Forget regret…forget regret…forget regret…_When we arrived at my apartment, I stared at the door blankly for a minute, forgetting why I was there.

"You okay?" I blinked, then turned to face Roger, having forgotten that he was with me, why I had started on my whole little guilt trip. I flashed a smile, which I realized was entirely too fake to have been believable.

"I'm fine." Instead of contending with his skeptical eyes, I unlocked the door hastily and held it open for him.

"This place is…nice." I smiled, feeling somehow proud. I had never been able to show off my apartment…well, Joanne's apartment, technically…before, in all of the eleven years I had been living here. It surprised me that we had never had them over. I was kind of glad for that though…when I had moved in, it had been very drab…boring. Mostly beige and other uninteresting colors…too sophisticated for my taste. Now, there was a lot more color, and it was a little less conservative, but I was careful to make it classy—so it suited both of us. Mostly I chose colors and we collaborated on designs and furniture. And of course it was clean…I mean, I did after all live with a control freak, and I even loved her for the quirk.

"Thanks, Rog. It's definitely a step or two up from the loft—no offense. I love the loft."

"Must be nice to have heat…money…" I sighed heavily, feeling guilty, remembering why people hadn't been over to our apartment before, then turned to him seriously.

"You know…if you ever need…"

"I know. It's okay. Now, go get this dirt off of you! You look like one of those chimney sweeps from Mary Poppins." I smiled at the reference. We—Roger, Mark, Collins and I—had once had an in-depth conversation about the film—the music, philosophies, symbols, implications—anything you could possibly think of. We had been, of course, incredibly drunk off our asses, but even drunk Mark was always behind that fucking camera.

"Okay." I rubbed his arm reassuringly before bouncing off to the bathroom, feeling somehow incredibly light and happy. I didn't want to look at myself in the mirror, but I caught my reflection as I closed the mirrored cabinet after retrieving my razor. Roger was right—my face was smudged with the dark soil that I had been sleeping in, especially in the already largely visible hollows formed by my cheekbone and jaw. I looked almost as though I were dead…my skin was very pale, more so than usual, my lips blue from having spent slept on a grave in mid-October without a coat, smudged with dirt…_I look like a zombie…like I'm already dead…I wonder how much it would hurt…_I gasped as I looked down and saw that I had cracked the plastic around the blade, and now had the blade positioned over my wrist, not having realized what I was doing, and flung the razorblade and the plastic handle across the room, which then stuck the metal garbage can with a loud, resounding noise.

"Maureen, you okay in there?"

"Yeah I'm fine. I just dropped something." I turned the shower on and undressed. As I was waiting for the water to heat, I couldn't shake my depression, thoughts of suicide, or sheer terror at the fact that I had come so close without even intending to. I stepped into the hot shower, pleased that the temperature was too hot to handle because it made me feel something, and sort of snapped me out of the daze that I had been in, though I was still shaky and uncertain. _I was doing so well for a while…I didn't think like this…I thought I was going to be okay, that I was done with this depression. Why can't my mind just leave me alone!_ I watched the darkened water collecting around my feet and imagined myself drowning in it…

When I got out of the shower, I started absently scratching my wrist, realizing for the first time that I had actually nicked it. The cut was relatively deep, and bleeding quite a bit. The fact that I hadn't felt it at all caused me to shudder at the thought. I found some gauze in the medicine cabinet and wrapped it around my wrist, putting a leather cuff over it, silently cursing myself for my stupidity. I also picked my razor and the blade from the floor and went to throw them out, but I didn't want Roger to see the blade, so I threw the plastic handle in the trash and kept the tiny blade in my hand, mentally noting to throw the blade away when there wasn't a chance of him finding it, like the ladies' room at the hospital. I put on a little makeup, trying to make myself at least look alive again, and slid into the bedroom to find some fresh clothes. I quickly pulled on black denim pants (slipping the blade in the pocket) and a gray off-the-shoulder sweatshirt, both of which I had seemingly owned forever. _I need to buy new clothes…that aren't maternity clothes._ It was quite disturbing that only a few weeks after I gave birth I could fit more or less into my clothes from over a decade ago. _Geez…how much weight did I lose? I must really have a problem…clothes that I got when living as a starving artist were too big for me ten years later when I was living in the lap of luxury? (Well, compared to the loft, anyway.) Something is very wrong about that._

When I walked out of my bedroom, I found Roger fast asleep on my couch. _He probably hasn't slept in over twenty-four hours, poor guy._ I decided that I should call Joanne's cell phone to let her know that I was okay.

"Hi baby!" I greeted cheerfully, not intending for my voice to come out that way.

"Maureen! Honey! Are you okay?" _Goddamn, I really have to stop scaring people._

"Yeah. I sort of…fell asleep in the cemetery…on Collins' grave."

"WHAT? Oh baby…are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah. Roger found me this morning…he walked me home and we had a little talk…he wanted to make sure I was okay, but honestly I'm a little worried about him. He's sleeping on our couch right now, poor guy. I am glad to be connecting with him again though…it had been such a long time."

"Yeah…he and Mimi really went at it last night, so I'm not surprised. Their words were vicious, but something that they weren't saying was somehow louder…though I'm still not sure what it was."

"What're you doing, Pookie? Are you still at the hospital?"

"Yeah. I'm here with Marcie. I was in there with Mark for a bit, and then I walked Marcie around for a while to get her to settle down. I finally got her to sleep about an hour ago. Honey? Are you crying?" I sniffled in response.

"I'm sorry…I just…I'm so glad that you are being so amazing for Marcie…I am such a failure as a mother…I just…can't keep my brain in the same place for long enough to remember anything…remember that time I forgot that I had turned the stove on and lit the kitchen on fire? Hell, I can't even remember to eat, let alone feed someone else! What was I thinking? I can't do this."

"Honey…sweetie, you just have a lot on your mind right now. It's okay. We'll be okay. And you _will_ get the hang of being a mother. You'll see—it will all be okay."

"Oh…Jo…what would I do without you?" _I'd die…

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**Author's note:** I was somewhat disappointed with the amount of comments on the last chapter...but I love this story too much to just stop writing...let's try to do better this time? (If we do, I promise I will write more of Mark and Maureen with the baby...or whatever you want, but you have to first tell me what you want!) 


	30. Chapter 30

Okay, yay! We did much better on the reviews this time. Next chapter is gonna reveal Maureen trying to be a mommy on her own...we'll see what that leads to...this chapter's a little weird, but I needed to progress a bit before I could get there. I will --love-- you if you leave feedback!

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I sat in the chair beside the couch in our living room area, watching Roger sleep. He looked so peaceful. _What happened between him and Mimi? How is it that Roger isn't mad at me? It would have been so much more like him to explode on me for being an awful mother than to openly embrace me…especially after what he said as I was leaving the hospital…but we tend to end up on the same side, I suppose, against Mimi and Joanne…this time shouldn't be any different. Mimi and Joanne? They could handle a child. Roger and I were certainly capable of loving a child, but responsibility could be a bit elusive at times. Did Roger even want a child? Could that be part of the problem? It's not that unfathomable that he could want a child…but he could have been thinking practically, which was probably a line of thought started by Mark…although I can't see Mark telling someone not to have a baby…unless of course they are concerned about Mimi's health, or maybe even the baby's health…oh good old Mark. I should go see him…_

The door opened, revealing an exhausted looking Joanne, carrying a giggling, energized Marcie in her arms. The sight was too much to take in without laughing, although I got the evil eye for that.

"I'm sorry Joanne…here, let me see my baby. Honey…Pookie, why don't you go get some rest? You look so tired…thank you so much for watching her…you are such a great mommy." I took Marcie in my left arm, and wrapped my right arm around Joanne and kissed her gently before slapping her ass towards the bedroom to urge her to go to bed. I sat down in the chair again with the baby, who seemed for once content to be in my arms. "Hi baby…I'm sorry baby, I think that I have failed you. I wish that I could give you everything, honey, and be everything for you…but the truth is, I'm not good enough for you. I love you, Marcie, but what if that isn't enough?" I noticed Roger was awake and watching me, listening to me talk to the baby. "Hey Marcie, look, it's Uncle Roger. He loves you too. You're going to be surrounded, honey, by people who love you…to make up for what I'm not…"

"Maureen…you're self-deprecating while talking to your child? You need arealitycheck. We all have faith in you-- you know that right? Mimi does, even if she won't admit to it…she's just bitter."

"Well understandably so! What happened between you guys, Rog?" He sighed.

"Well, we both wanted a child…but…the doctor said that Mimi…well, you've seen Mimi. She's got all the spirit in the world, but physically…she's been getting worse. We tried anyway, but…it just didn't happen…we couldn't afford to have a baby, Mo. It would have been awful—to raise a child in that loft? Without heat and food? Hell, it's barely shelter. And to sacrifice her health for a child that may or may not survive?" _Oh. So it was the health factor…and the money…and…everything else. But how can Mimi be mad at him? They tried and it didn't happen…poor Mimi. I should talk to her…but she might kill me._

"Roger…I'm sorry…she wants to kill me, doesn't she? I'm not worthy of this child…she's undeserving of that heartbreak, but I'm the selfish bitch who is going to keep the baby that I am unprepared for…"

"Maureen! You love this child, you wanted this child more than anything. Simply because of that, I know that you are going to make a great mother. Collins knew that too—he was so happy for you, remember? By doubting yourself, you are only letting him down, and letting Marcie down, and Mark and Joanne as well, in addition to myself and Mimi. I can just imagine Angel up there with pompoms cheering for you, Mo. Everyone is on your side—for both Marcie's sake and your own. This family is strong, and the five of us can provide Marcie with a strong family." I started thinking back to New Year's Eve…the seven of us…remembering our resolution.

"This family tree's got deep roots…" I smiled, remembering that night. "God, Rog, can you believe that it's been such a long time already? Eleven years went by so fast."

"I can't believe that I've made it this far…" Tears welled up in his eyes, but soon I couldn't see them for the tears in my own eyes. I sat beside him on the couch and hugged him tightly.

"Oh Roger…I…love you. I'm so sorry that we grew so far apart."

"At least we're okay now. I'm going to go try to patch things up with Meems…maybe I'll see you at the hospital later? They're releasing him today…or more like kicking him out. But regardless, he gets out this evening. I'm sure you'll be there anyway. Maybe you and Joanne can come by the loft afterwards, you know…hang out?"

"Yeah. I think we—all of us—need to have some time together…so much has happened since we were last able to just…be with each other." I half-hugged him gently, being that I was still holding Marcie, before letting him go. I locked the door behind him, and spent some time with my now-fussy baby. Breast-feeding is a bitch, let me tell you…but at least I was finally getting some time to bond with my baby. Eventually, I fell asleep on the couch with the child on my chest…

"Maureen, honey, time to wake up."

"Huh? Oh. What time is it?"

"It's about three. Mark just called from the hospital. He said that they are going to let him out around five, and he wants us to come by before then…I was thinking around four?"

"Okay." I looked down at the sleeping child.

"You two were so cute sleeping together…I don't understand how you can say you are a bad mother. I took a picture…" She waved a disposable camera in front of my face and I laughed, sitting up carefully, so as not to disturb the baby.

"I love you Pookie." She was standing behind the couch and bent over it as I leaned back and we met each other in gentle yet passionate kiss. I gently put the child down in her crib, and to my surprise, she didn't wake up—knowing from past experience that babies, especially this one, had a tendency to do exactly what you didn't want them to. I gently rubbed the inside of Joanne's thigh and pulled her closer to me and asked seductively, "So what exactly should we do for an hour?" Taking initiative, she pushed me up against the wall, her hands roaming beneath my shirt, over my breasts, then down lower. In growing anticipation, I rocked in towards her as she teased me, my back arching…

Promptly at four o'clock we arrived at the hospital with every hair in place, without anything to indicate that we had just had gone at it for about an hour. Marcie was, of course, her innocent little self, although not behaving quite as well as she had before. It seemed that she hated hospitals as much as the rest of us did, which Joanne mentioned could probably be attributed to all of the screaming, crying and discomfort that she had experienced the previous day, even if she couldn't comprehend exactly what was going on. _What a perceptive baby…of course, what else would you expect in such an observant cameraman's child?_ Roger and Mimi, who were apparently waiting for us to arrive, greeted us when we entered the waiting area.

"Hey guys! What's up?" They both simultaneously rolled their eyes and responded that Mark had been taken to see shrink to analyze his mental status. "Like any of these crazy yuppies are gonna know what the fuck it's like to live in the loft. No matter what they're gonna think he's nuts."

"Yeah, well, regardless of the diagnosis, we aren't going to make him stay here. I don't think any of us can stand to spend any more time in this hellhole, much less Mark."

"Especially with some whacko trying to tell him he's nuts! God, I really can't stand shrinks. And honestly, I can't say that mine did a hell of a lot of good for me. I felt like a bug under a microscope…hey! Protest idea!" He rolled his eyes at me. "Oh, shut up Roger."

"I didn't say anything!" I playfully slapped him upside the head, but couldn't prevent a wide smile from spreading on my face. Mimi and Joanne were fussing over the baby, and I couldn't help but feel excluded and almost shunned. I felt the weight of Mimi's judgment of me bearing down on me, and I felt about to crack, so I excused myself to the bathroom, which caused Roger to join in fussing over Marcie. _Why does this bother me so much? Mimi hasn't even said a word to me about it…maybe I'm just overreacting…but I could see it in her eyes, feel her hatred and resentment…I'm not deserving of the blessing that Marcie is. Why is it that Joanne always has Marcie? Why don't I ever carry her or push the carriage or anything? I can't even be responsible and clear-headed enough to think to do something simple like that? I have still spent next to no time with her, and when Joanne goes back to work tomorrow, I'm going to have to do everything on my own, or else I'll really screw something up. What if I do something really awful? What if something bad happens and she gets hurt? I can't even keep myself from getting hurt or passing out from having not remembered to eat in a week._ As I walked, I felt something sharp digging into my leg and, not knowing what it was, I reached into my pocket to find out. I felt it cut my finger and remembered that it was the razorblade from before. Once I had made my way into the bathroom, I pulled the blade out of my pants, fully intending to throw it away, but something stopped me. _Is it really so bad to just feel a little pain? Physical pain? To make sure that I am really living? Sometimes I'm not so sure that I am…what is really the harm? I know that I don't really want to die, and I don't want to subject the others to my death even more than for my own sake, and then there is Marcie to think of…but I just need to be reminded that my blood is still flowing, my heart is still beating…ow! That wasn't so bad._ Before I knew it, I had drawn several fresh lines on my already badly scarred left arm. I slid the sleeve of my sweatshirt back down over my arm, relieved that I had gotten myself to feel something…to free myself of the numbness that had come over me every moment that I wasn't falling to pieces. I didn't know truly whether I preferred feeling the immense pain and weight of the world or feeling nothing at all. In some ways the pain was nice because I at least felt as though I was living…

I pulled myself together quickly, tested my smile and pleasant appearance in the mirror as Mimi walked into the room. _Thank God she didn't catch me before...that wouldn't have exactly helped the situation any..._

"Hey Meems. What's up?"

"Maureen, don't start with me." The vicious tone of her voice caught me somewhat by surprise, even though I knew that she was furious with me because I had been given what she so desperately wanted.

"Mimi, what's wrong?"

"What's wrong, Maureen? What's WRONG? I'll tell you what's wrong-- you having a baby. THAT's wrong. You don't deserve that baby and you damn well know it. I don't want to stand around and watch you fuck up the life of this baby girl. You know what else is wrong? That you are still teasing Mark after all these years. It's pathetic. Is that how you make yourself feel worthwhile? By dragging him along? And you keep cheating on Joanne with him? Who do you think you are fooling, Maureen? You are a bitch. You disgust me. Get out of my sight." _Okay, I know that I don't deserve this. But that was harsh...Mimi has never spoken to me like that before...she's right though. I needed to hear that...to know that everyone else truly sees me that way...they would never admit it to my face though. If only I could let her know how deeply I am aware of everything that she just told me...how can she not know? Is it not obvious? _I quickly turned on my heel and left the bathroom, not allowing myself to show the world that what Mimi had said to me had truly affected me...which it had. But I didn't want to make a scene. This day was about Mark._ Maybe it would be better if I just go home...I don't think that I am up to family bonding right now...especially with Mimi behaving this way. I don't think that I can handle it...especially because I know that she is right. I don't want to start a fight...not tonight. None of us needs any more drama, and that seems to be all that I am good for around here...causing drama._


	31. Chapter 31

**AN:** This isn't exactly where I had envisioned going with this chapter, but it sort of came out. There will be more Maureen with the baby to come, but at least this is a start. It just felt like Maureen needs to get her head straightened out a bit. REVIEWS for last chapter were great, and keep the feedback coming. I love knowing what you guys think...it helps keep me motivated.

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I told Joanne that I wanted her to take Marcie to the loft, but that I was really exhausted and needed to get myself in proper working order if I wanted to be able to really be there and focused for Marcie the next day. That was partially true. I looked at her with pleading eyes, and she reluctantly agreed to let me go home, and promised to send Mark my love. By the time that I got home, I couldn't hold back the tears any longer, and flung myself onto the bed, letting self-hatred and depression overtake my body, my head spinning, Mimi's words haunting me.

I awoke the next morning to the sound of an alarm clock, finding myself on the edge of the bed, dried blood caked onto my body, spotting my clothing. I saw a note on the clock and moved closer so I could see it, first shutting the alarm off. It said, "Maureen, we have to talk. I know you'll take good care of Marcie, but I'm worried about you." I took a five-minute shower, not wanting to miss Marcie waking up, or allow enough time to elapse for something bad to happen. I stood in the doorway to the "makeshift nursery" which Joanne had set up in a small, previously unoccupied room in the apartment, which would have been the guest room, except that we never had guests. I watched the little angel sleep peacefully for about twenty minutes before she finally awoke, practically screaming from the moment her eyes opened. I scooped the child up in my arms, trying to diagnose the problem. She was reaching for my breast, so I revealed it to her. That seemed to solve the problem for her, and I was sort of getting used to the pain. After several minutes, though, she was crying again. I couldn't figure out what was wrong, so I tried to comfort her in other ways. I started singing, and immediately she fell silent. I rocked her gently as I sang the few lullabies that I could remember. Whenever she stirred even the slightest bit over the next several hours, I was more than likely to jump a mile. My entire body tensed up and my heart raced, and I felt completely unprepared, freaking out for a least a good minute of so before I could be objective, usually throwing in an inappropriate exclamation or two or ten.

As the day progressed, I relaxed a little. Marcie slept a lot of the time, which was good in some ways because I couldn't screw her up if she was asleep, but it was also bad, because it forced me back into my own head, since there was nowhere else to go. I tried turning on the TV to get my mind off of what was really bothering me, but it didn't work. _You don't deserve that baby and you damn well know it…you disgust me…you slut…_Mimi's words were soon followed by some of my own thoughts, which were much more potent. _What are you still doing here, Maureen? Great, so you've brought this baby into the world. What made you think that you could raise a child? But I'm doing okay right now. But you will fuck up later. No I won't! Shut up! Mark should have let you die, Maureen…he should have let you die. None of this would be happening. But then Marcie wouldn't have happened! And Mark wouldn't have tried to kill himself, Joanne wouldn't have tried to kill herself. You can't prove that! Face it, Maureen, you only cause others pain. Even Roger. You show him what he can't have—a normal life, without AIDS, with a baby, a family. And you're fucking it up. Every time you fuck it up, he sees how unfair it is for you to have this. Just like Mimi does. You should just end it. Marcie would be fine until Joanne gets home…_I walked over to Marcie's crib, watching her as silent tears slid down my cheeks. _She's such an angel. Maybe this will be okay. She at least gives you some purpose in life. You're life isn't as important anymore. If you can just be there for her…there isn't too much that can go wrong. As long as you pay attention. She can take your mind off of hurting yourself. Motivate you to be the person you want her to see you as. Make yourself respectable for her. Not by societal standards, but you can raise her to think. To be passionate. To see the good in the world. To be more like her father…_

The phone rang, which disturbed Marcie from her peaceful slumber. _Fuck! _I picked her up, trying to make her calm down as I went to answer the phone. "Hello?"

"Maureen?"

"Mark?"

"Are you okay?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I didn't see you last night, and I got kind of worried. Joanne said that you were just tired, but honey…what's going on? Are you okay?" _How does he know me so well? Oh yeah. He has known me forever. And he loves me._ I sighed, wondering where to begin.

"Well…I mean…I thought that I was past this depression…" I paused to reposition Marcie, knowing that I would likely be there for a while. I sort of rocked her as I talked to Mark, and she seemed to settle considerably, "but…these thoughts…they keep coming back…and I don't feel like I deserve any of this…this life that I am living. I have so much…and then…" I didn't know whether or not I should tell him about Mimi, wanting to talk to someone, but thinking it could be risky, especially over the phone. For all I knew, she could be listening in. More likely, though, she was sitting in very close proximity.

"Joanne told me that she found you passed out with a razorblade in hand and your body was all cut up. She didn't want to tell me, but she can't get home until late tonight, but she didn't want to wake you earlier than she had to. She's really worried about you. I am too."

"Oh Mark…I just…I'll be fine. It's hard to find balance with all that has happened recently…and it's a huge adjustment not having Collins around…and plus now I have this added stress of the baby…I'm just scared that I'm not enough for her." I hadn't noticed that I was crying until Marcie became ridiculously fussy and would not be quieted. _I guess it's hard to convince someone to calm down when you aren't calm yourself…_

"Maureen, I'm going to come over there to check up on you. Besides, it sounds like you could use someone to talk to…" I let out a sigh of relief, not having realized that what I wanted more than anything was someone to vent my frustrations to. Mark always knew exactly how to handle me when I was upset. I mean, so did Joanne, but sometimes it was just easier to talk to Mark, probably because he wasn't my partner. I didn't have to worry about offending him as much. Besides, Joanne needed to get caught up at work. I couldn't be mad at her for keeping a steady income when we were trying to raise a child.

"Mark…how do you always know exactly what I need?" I could tell he was blushing on the other end. He muttered that he would be over in about fifteen minutes and quickly hung up. _I can't believe that I broke his heart…on more than one occasion…and he still loves me…I don't know how he does it…he deserves better than this…he deserves to have a girlfriend who loves him…he doesn't even have a girlfriend, though. I was his last girlfriend…Mimi was right. This is pathetic. I need to stop teasing him…but I don't mean to…sometimes a girl just needs to feel cared for…and breaking his heart breaks mine even more…he should have never gotten involved with me. His life would be so much better, and he wouldn't have all of this stress…and nobody would have to deal with me…because I wouldn't have been prevented from improving the world by removing myself from it…why does he love me?_


	32. Chapter 32

I awoke on the couch after what I hoped had been only minutes to the sound of Mark pounding on the door to my apartment. I opened the door, allowing the very concerned and upset looking Marky into the apartment, confused about his mien until I remembered that Joanne had told him about my cutting…which she wouldn't have even found out about, had I been more careful. _Way to bring this upon yourself Maureen…_

"Hey Marky!" He eyed me with sheer puzzlement but quickly got over it, although his usual awkward behavior persisted.

"Um…hi. I'm sorry to barge in on you like this, but I thought maybe…"

"Jesus, Mark! Chill out. It's cool."

"Joanne seemed to think you were in some sort of slump, but based on this behavior…"

"Can we just talk, Mark? We've both got some issues, it seems. We're okay as long as this isn't all about me." _Did I seriously just say that? Something must have really changed within me to bring that on…_We sat beside one another on the couch, on opposite ends, turned inwards to face one another. I began to absently scratch at my cuts, which seemingly cause him to remember what Joanne had told him. He took one of my hands in his own, and pushed the sleeve up, revealing a mass of red, purple, and white, all of varying widths, ages and lengths. It was quite a work of art. He ran his fingers over the mess, trembling at the horrific sight.

"Maureen…why did you…?" I responded nonchalantly, in the most unfeeling manner that I could muster.

"I don't deserve a child. Mimi's right about that. But honestly…I'm not sure that they could handle one either. I mean…between you, Joanne, and me we make a pretty decent living. And if you needed to, there's always Buzzline. But what's Mimi got? Cat Scratch. And Roger could get a few gigs maybe, he could always bartend…but they'd still barely scrape by. I feel so bad that I am thinking awful things like this…but I can't help it." Mark looked increasingly uncomfortable as I continued to speak, but I couldn't figure out exactly what it was that was bothering him. I felt like I should apologize, but I didn't know what for, do I just refrained from speaking, which caused him to recognize the discomfort that had come over him.

"I don't know what to tell you. I have been having an increasingly hard time coming to terms with the fact that my daughter is being raised by lesbians, on of whom, her mother, otherwise known as you—I consider to be the love of my life." My jaw dropped to the floor. It wasn't like Mark to say such angry, resentful words or use such a volatile, explosivetone as he was. I didn't want to believe that his words could possibly be genuine, but I knew that he was right to be hurt. I just wasn't sure if I could believe the emotion that he was trying to convey. The sudden transformation from the sympathetic, sweet boy to the bitter, violent man left me completely confused and scared. I had never seen him like this—although I had seen Roger behave this way.

"Mark…" He put his hands up.

"I'm not done. Maureen, you know that I love you more than I have ever loved anything else in my life" _Yeah, except for that damn camera!_ "but you have to understand that just because I'm out of the hospital doesn't mean that everything is going to be fine and dandy from here on out! I can't do that!"

"MARK! Stop it. I can't do this right now. I can't. I'm having a hard enough time with everything else. I thought that you would understand that. I thought that you came over here to help me out, not make me feel even more like jumping out of a twenty-third story window!"

"What? So my feelings don't matter? My depression, my run-in with suicide doesn't matter? Does everything always have to be about you? Maureen, I love you, but you have to stop expecting me to follow you around like a sad puppy! I thought that this connection to you through Marcie would be enough, but my life is such a tease! And you aren't exactly helping things any. I come to your side, I try to help you out, and what do I get out of it?"

"You are my best friend, Mark! I thought that meant that I could tell you about my problems and you would do your best to help me out! I thought that if you needed to say something you would tell me! I'm not trying to make this about me! I'm not!"

"Drama queen. You know what? Go right ahead and cut yourself some more."

"You got that from Roger, didn't you?" He had been about to storm out of the apartment, and from the wounded and somewhat angry way that he glared at me; I knew that I was completely dead on. The anger drained from his eyes as he saw that I wasn't really angry with him. He had hurt me and I had hurt him. Nothing about our lives could ever be simple, it seemed, since we both had such difficulty communicating with each other, and people in general, for that matter. His attempt to be like Roger, whom he obviously admired and secretly wished that he could be like, had only served to show how much he didn't really mean what he was saying. He collapsed on the floor like a small child, taken by his pain, and I joined him there. We must have been quite a sight, sitting there crying on the floor, while simultaneously apologizing to one another and trying to reassure one another. It felt like we were stupid kids again, trying so hard to be angry because logically it made sense, trying to push one another away for idiotic reasons. He had been deeply and profoundly effected by Roger's warnings not to get involved with me, although Roger and I were okay now, Mark's mind had been impressed with the anger that Roger had exuded over the past decade. _Bitterness stemming from my stupidity and inadequacy—if I had been a halfway decent person, I would never have broken his heart. I was selfish. I needed more than was humanly possible to give. Which explains my desire for multiple partners who worshipped the very ground I walked on. Marky did all of those things. He was perfect for me. Why couldn't I have just trusted that? And why did I have to run to Joanne? A woman. A woman who stands for everything that I despise, and yet…despite the pain and stress our relationship has caused, we seem to somehow fit. But if I had been able to trust that he loved me, that he would never leave me—which, logically, I knew that he never would—but I couldn't trust desire. It was more than desire though—it was love. I couldn't believe in the power of love, of fate. I had to go out of my way, out of my comfort zone to do it…or am I lying to myself? Grass is greener on the other side, I suppose._

"Maureen…I didn't mean…" I rolled my eyes. We had both recovered from our randomly raging hormones, and leaning back against the wall, staring straight ahead, not looking at one another. All of a sudden, I felt his eyes on me, feeling a deep flush come over my lower neck, feeling it tingle, yet not knowing why I was blushing. It was not something that I wasn't accustomed to feeling. _Embarrassment? Shame? Fear? What is this feeling? Why can't I name it, place it? What is going on here?_ I felt his hand on my shoulder, and was aware of his body inching closer to mine…my heart began to pound and my hands began to sweat, though I didn't know why…_do I feel something for him? I've never felt like this before…like, butterflies and knots in my stomach at the same time?_

"Maureen…" I felt his breath on my neck, and my entire body responded, despite my mind telling me this was wrong. I felt his lips on the skin of my neck, then my earlobe… "I love you."

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**Author's note:** I really hope that this chapter isn't too much. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE I am begging you, comment on this chapter. I'm not sure how well it flows with the rest of the story. Tell me what you like and don't like. I'm probably going to make a few changes, if necessary, so if you've got something to say, please say it. Even if you just want to say that you liked it or hated it. I need to know. Thanks for your support thus far! I love you guys! 


	33. Chapter 33

**Author's note:** Feedback on the last chapter was the most amazing ever! Keep it up, guys! Thank you so much for your support-- this story would die without its readers...the comments really keep me going. Please review this chapter...I think in a few parts the dialogue seems a little...weird. Lemme know what you think!

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"Mark…no!" I pushed away from him, unable to understand his forward nature, not wanting to fall in love with him. _He's like a brother to me…that's not normal. Of course, I have no right to judge him for this, considering…well, my merciless seduction of him, and the fact that we have a daughter._ I saw hurt and confusion in his eyes, so powerful that I couldn't stand to hold his gaze. _Does he know that he has the power to melt me? He couldn't, really, because I've never shown him, but those eyes…it's like kicking a puppy. Moral people just don't do it._ "Mark…I'm with Joanne now. You know how hard it is for me to say no to you…please don't push this…I'm sorry…I'm trying to be better…"

"How is this any different from before? You were with her before when we…you kissed me!" He looked hurt, but I didn't know what else I could do. I didn't want to mess up what I had with Joanne.

"Mark, please don't make this harder than it has to be! You can't seriously tell me that you are urging me to cheat on my girlfriend! Just because I have made countless mistakes before doesn't mean that I can't try to make things better! And I wasn't really _with_ her when we…procreated." He spastically propelled himself to his feet, hurt and angry.

"I thought that we had something!"

"Marky…you know that I love you, but I told you that I was going to stay with her! I love her!"

"Maureen, I can't do this with you anymore. I'm done with this tango! I'm done with obeying your every command! You can't keep playing with me like this! I'm not a toy. I have tried to be okay with this, but I can't. You drag me back here, into this Hell, and expect me to be happy about it?" He was flustered and furious, and I wanted desperately to hug him, apologize, and make everything better. I tried to move towards him, but he wouldn't let me near him.

"Marky…I'm sorry…please, Mark—I need you. I really need you right now, and I can't handle this. I'm sorry, I don't mean to lead you on like this, but please…I really need to talk to you right now. I need your to be here for me—I don't have anyone else!" He rolled his eyes at me.

"Stop being so theatrical. Go talk to Joanne. You chose her anyway." I slumped over, collapsing into a chair, dropping my head into my hands.

"She's so busy. I need you now. Please, you are my best friend Mark…" His attempted resolve finally crumbled as I began to cry. I hadn't been aware of how difficult it was for him to be angry at me, how forced his cruel words were until this moment, when his demeanor went from rough to the soft, caring, adorable Mark that I was so accustomed to.

"I'm sorry, Maureen…I didn't mean to…I mean…what's wrong?" I slowly raised my eyes to his as he crouched in front of me and placed his hands over my own. I couldn't really define what was bothering me so much, what was making me feel so desperate and on edge all the time, but I decided that I had to start somewhere, so I told him about the things that Mimi had said to me, not failing to mention that I had felt exactly the same way about myself as she did. He looked sort of appalled at what Mimi had said with regard to him, though I was sure that somewhere deep within himself he knew that he couldn't deny the truth of the statement, but he looked sympathetic. He hugged me and then inquired some more. "When did all of this cutting start? Was it because of Mimi?" I shook my head, thinking back to when it had started.

"When Roger…the day that he found me in the cemetery, I brought him back here. I was going to take a shower and…"

"Wait, does Roger know about this?" There was panic blatantly obvious in his voice.

"No, I'm not that stupid. Let me finish. So I was going to take a shower, and I must have been really spaced out, because I'm looking at myself in the mirror, and my reflection looks like a corpse…and I start thinking about whether or not it would be painful to die, and the next thing I know, the blade's been freed from my razor and is positioned over my wrist. So I panicked, threw the blade across the floor. I didn't realize until I got out of the shower that I had cut myself." He looked at me wide-eyed, trying to comprehend.

"Did you really want to die?"

"Well, no. I wanted to feel. But…like I said, I didn't feel the cut. That was scary. I cut really deep, too, and it wouldn't stop bleeding, but I didn't feel it."

"Jesus. Okay. Then what happened the other times? I'm assuming you didn't do it more than that one cut when Roger was there."

"You're right. I kept the blade because I was afraid Roger might find it. Well…I cut until I felt it. I didn't stop until I felt this sense of…awareness and relief. The world doesn't seem real until I can feel pain. The same was true when I almost killed myself, when I cut up my arm. I just wanted to feel. Is that really so bad? My depression…it's chasing me. I thought that I was okay, I was doing really well for a while, or so I thought, and then randomly out of the blue this happens. I was so plagued by my fears, my inadequacy, my doubts and shortcomings…I still feel inconsequential, and if not that undeserving of love and certainly of a daughter…I don't know. I just don't know. I don't want to go back to the fucking psychologist, though. I hated that. And I hate that I keep hurting you…I hate that I left you, but I would hate if I left her. I hate that I dragged you back here into this hellhole and it caused you to want to die and I hate that I am so needy all the time. I hate that I always make you listen to my problems and that I don't let you talk and that I make you do whatever I say. I hate that I don't feel worthy of life, love or happiness." He blinked several times. It was a lot to take in.

"Maureen…I'm sorry. Joanne said that she was concerned about you. I came over here because I wanted to help you out, and all I could do was push you away and attack you, when all I really wanted was to hold you and help you." He embraced me lovingly and continued apologizing and began to rub my back. I started to relax. He released me after a long while, and I looked him over carefully.

"I know that you have been having some issues of your own, Mark. Please, I really want to know what's going on in your head." He looked shocked at my inquiry.

"It's nothing much. I'm just trying to get over you still. You know, the same old thing." He was trying to be nonchalant about it, but I could tell that it caused him a lot of grief.

"What about Roger and Mimi? I know there was something there too. What happened that night?"

"I didn't go straight to the loft. I walked around a bit. I got there maybe an hour before I called you. When I got there, they were using, obviously as Roger must have already told you. There was an argument, a struggle. I felt as though I couldn't do anything right, I couldn't even avoid being convinced to come back to the life that I needed to escape from. I couldn't have you, I couldn't help them…I figured Marcie would be fine with the two of you, so I really had no purpose to be around. I am sick of being alone." I couldn't say that any of this surprised me, but the intensity of his reaction to what had happened and his inability to place the blame on anyone other than himself surprised me. I suppose it shouldn't have surprised me as much as it did, Mark was always weird with his emotions. I was speechless, unsure of what to say.

"I'm sorry. I should have made sure that you were okay. I knew that I shouldn't have left you…I should have walked you home, at least. I knew something was wrong before you called me. I should have just gone over there to you."

"I didn't mean to scare you…"

"I know. I did the same thing, remember?" I heard Marcie let out a little baby sigh through the baby monitor, which made me giggle. It was so cute. We rose from where we were positioned and went to watch our child. She yawned and then giggled happily while reaching up towards us. Mark reached down and picked her up. They were so beautiful together that it almost brought me to tears, both with matching expressions of pure bliss on their faces. I took a deep breath and smiled widely. "You are perfect together. I bet she's going to be a daddy's girl, Mark. She loves you." I couldn't help but feel a wave of regret wash over me as I thought about how perfect we could have been as a little family, but I quickly brushed it aside, rationalizing that we would have been completely broke, and various other reasons why it wouldn't have worked. The truth was, however, that if I hadn't have broken up with Mark, if I hadn't have met Joanne, we would still be perfectly happy and in love. But no regrets—this could still work out to be fabulous and beneficial to all of us…


	34. Chapter 34

**AN:** Your feedback was, once again, stellar. I applaude you for that, and cannot express how much I LOVE the feedback. Please R&R. Next couple of chapters will likely be MoJo, hopefully with some fluff...anyhow, enjoy this chapter and don't forget to tell me what you think!

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Mark, Marcie and I spent the majority of the day together, and it was reassuring to feel that I was doing something right in the midst of all of my mistakes. Granted, I did continue to screw up most aspects of my life, but I was proud that I had been able to say no to Mark, despite the fact that it hurt both of us, but I knew that the only way that we would ever be okay was if we stopped fooling ourselves and tried to move on with our lives. I felt bad for Mark, because he had never known love or lust or whatever our relationship had been beyond my relationship with him, really, and now he had a child but no lover. To me it seemed quite tragic, but then sex and romance had always been important to me. Maybe that was stupid or shallow, but it was the truth. Maybe Mark didn't need that—I had always fancied that he was a much better person that I was…more observant, intelligent though albeit naïve…but he could also be protective if the time came. He was made to be a parent. I only hoped that he would think that it was enough too. Secretly, I hoped that we would stay like this little dysfunctional family forever. Mark surely deserved companionship, but at moments like this, it seemed that we had all that we would ever need right before us. But that was naïveté.

Mark finally left around eight, which was an hour before Joanne said she would be likely to get home. Marcie had stayed awake throughout most of the visit, which I thought was uncharacteristic, but it felt right. We felt like a family, though obviously not conventional. I put Marcie to sleep and started to fill the tub with water, retreating into my own mind, which was a very dangerous place at times, and I could only hope that this time would be different. I poured the bubble bath into the tub and inhaled a pleasant vanilla aroma, which helped to relax my tense body, along with the heat of the water, which though it was slightly hotter than comfortable, still felt nice in an odd sort of way against my skin. I was careful not to look at myself in the mirror, not wanting to address the cuts that covered my body. Last night I had been truly upset, and had done some intense damage to my body—damage that I didn't remember doing. All I had remembered was coming home and collapsing onto the bed. I didn't think that I had fallen asleep per se, I knew that I had been sobbing…it was almost as though what I had though was giving me sensation, to make me feel alive, was actually numbing my emotions in exchange for a very slight amount of physical pain. Maybe it was something psychological about drawing blood from your own body…I don't know. I'm no expert on…anything, really. Whatever the reason for my cutting was, however, it seemed to relax me. Not that this bath wasn't amazing…I noticed a glint of metal sticking out from the pocket of my jeans…_how the fuck did that get there? Joanne found my blade this morning and threw it out, I assumed…_I realized that it was just a nail file, but was still confused about what it would be doing in my pocket…and if it would do adequate damage…I remembered a package of replacement blades that were in the medicine cabinet, and I had gotten out of the tub and was fiddling with the irritating protective plastic around the blade in an attempt to liberate the blade when Joanne entered the apartment. I stood dumbly, staring at my hands and wondering what I should do. The blade finally came out of the plastic, so I tossed the plastic into the garbage and scurried back into the tub, the blade hidden in my fist. Joanne called out my name, and I told where I was. She opened the door gingerly, not knowing quite what to expect. She was probably afraid that I had cut again, although I didn't quite know why I would have allowed her to come into the room in that event. _I suppose crazy people like me don't often make sense. I've been facing that all of my life. Why should now be any different?_ I clenched my fist a little tighter, feeling the metal dig into my skin, inhaling sharply yet trying not to make it noticeable. She came over, closed the lid to the toilet and sat on it, looking down into my eyes. I dropped the razorblade into the water, forgetting about it, and brought my bleeding hand out of the water, again having forgotten that I had cut it, curious about the sting of the soap and the slight itch that had started. I stared at the cut blankly for a moment before plunging it beneath the surface again. Joanne looked even more concerned than she had in the first place, and I felt truly idiotic for having such a stupid problem, although on some level I still didn't understand why she couldn't comprehend its appeal.

"Maureen, honey, I'm worried about you." What I saw in her eyes wasn't just concern, however, it was blatant fear, similar to what I had imagined she had felt after I had attempted to kill myself. She was still afraid that I was going to really do it.

"I know. I'm sorry." She looked a little puzzled, as if my words didn't fit into the speech that she had undoubtedly prepared. When Joanne got nervous, she planned things. I had always found that little quirk to be endearing. Others found it to be downright irritating.

"Honey, I just want you to talk to me. I hate that you still feel like you have to go through this—whatever this is—alone. I can tell that you are depressed, sweetie, it isn't any different than when you started going to the psychologist. I know how much you hated that, so I won't tell you to go back there, but I need you at least to talk to me. Is that really so much to ask for?"

"No, Joanne. I want to talk to you. I really do. I know that I have some major problems that I have to work through—we have to work through. We are going to make this relationship work. Because I love you, and nothing is ever going to change that. I promise." We held each other's eyes for a long moment, taking in all of the emotion that neither of us could express accurately in words.

"I'm gonna let you finish up in here. I'll go to the kitchen and make a pot of coffee and we can just talk. And if you want, I'll take off from work tomorrow. I know that you need me, and I want to make sure that you know that I am here for you." That was the sweetest offer that she could have possibly extended towards me, and I eagerly accepted it. She and I hadn't had enough time for each other lately, and I was beginning to feel the weight of that familiar loneliness settling into my chest cavity. The only way to remedy that was to get back into the groove of things, and start working things out. She leaned in to kiss me, and I pressed my lips up against hers urgently, expressing to her every need and desire that I felt consuming my body. She lingered for a moment before reluctantly retreating to the kitchen. I got out of the tub after I had completely drained the water, slid the blade into the medicine cabinet, beneath some long-forgotten travel toothpaste, dried myself off and quickly threw boxers and a tank top on, along with an old flannel shirt of Mark's. It had always made me feel safe and comfortable in his absence when we were dating, although I had never shown that needy and insecure side to him. Even now it made me feel cared for, and I liked to believe that it gave me the courage to be as open as possible with Joanne. Of course, her loving embrace and kisses would be infinitely better than this stupid shirt, but I guess that wearing it was a habit that I had never quite gotten over, it was my security blanket, no longer having anything really to do with Mark, and everything to do with me feeling loved. Maybe it had to do with the somewhat brotherly love that Mark had shown me, the kindness and caring without sexual implications that had often characterized our relationship, though on occasion it had driven me into the arms of another man…or woman. I couldn't explain it—it was just comforting, not to mention comfortable. Maybe I'm a bit too superstitious. I liked to think that quirk was endearing, but then again, who knew?

I joined Joanne in the kitchen, sitting across from her at the table. She had set out coffee for both of us, and was sitting, staring intently into her mug. I could tell that she was planning what she was going to say to me. I decided to break the silence.

"So, you told Mark that I was having some problems?" She looked across the table at me, for the first time seeming to notice that I was there.

"Yeah. I didn't want to…cause trouble, but I was really concerned about you. I couldn't tear myself away from the office today, since I've taken so much time off recently, but tomorrow shouldn't be a big deal. I've caught up enough for the time being. The office is a little slow right now. I didn't know whom else I could call. Mimi is still pissed, Roger's a little…out of it, and…there's really nobody else. I hope it was okay." I sighed. _I really don't want to tell her about what happened. If she believes me, she'll be proud. If not, I'm screwed. But if somehow she found out from someone else…not that Mark would probably tell her, but…_

"Yeah, it was fine. He got to spend time with Marcie, and we straightened a few things out."

"That's good." I couldn't stand this small talk much longer, and suddenly felt very tired. I took a long sip of coffee, scalding my tongue a little bit, but not really caring. That caused her to stare in concerned wonderment. I laughed.

"What?" She shook her head.

"Maureen, what's going on?" Her voice was serious and intense. I had no choice but to face the unpleasant aspects of my life that I had been beating myself up to avoid. But maybe it would feel better once it was all out there…


	35. Chapter 35

I felt increasingly awkward under Joanne's intense glare, unable to find the right words to express exactly what I was feeling. I don't know why, but for some reason just being around her made me feel that everything was okay, even when it wasn't. I found it difficult to tell Joanne about my problems, to let her know what was really bothering me, because as soon as she was near me, things didn't really seem all that bad anymore. Either that or she would be the reason why I was upset in the first place, so I clearly couldn't tell her and expect her to address that situation objectively. I wanted so badly just to open my heart up to her, let her see all of me, but I was nervous. Even after all of these years, I was afraid that when I showed her who I really was, she wouldn't want me anymore. That I wasn't deserving of her love. 

It occurred to me that in some small way, I was more resistant now to talking to her ever since the day that this drama first started—the day when I tried to kill myself, the day that she ran away. I couldn't tell whether it was more because I was afraid that she would abandon me or because I didn't want her to have to suffer, knowing the hell that I was going through. She deserved better than what I could offer, and I really couldn't understand the appeal of being with me, particularly now that I had all of these problems. I knew that I was nowhere near fun or even pleasant to be around, and now she had this stupid baby to take care of that wasn't even hers since I am the biggest spaz in the world, and probably the most unworthy mother ever. Collins would have told me to stop being so self-important. The truth was, I didn't know how. Maybe I was hiding some deeper pain…that seemed like something he would have suggested, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. I never really understood what he meant by that, no matter how hard I tried to find my untapped pain, my real fears.

Maybe I was just afraid to be alone…maybe I thought that if I could keep my pain inside of me that she would never leave me, and if I showed my weakness and inner monster to her, she would never want to be with me. I knew, and it weighed heavily on my heart, that if I didn't let her in, she would be gone. It would hurt her to leave, but I knew also that she couldn't take much more of this. Hell, I couldn't take much more of this, but I couldn't abandon myself unless…

I snapped out of my mind quickly, not wanting to address the morbid desire that had been haunting me for what now seemed like forever. I looked up from the dark liquid in my chipped mug, seeing that Joanne was watching me, trying to think of something to say. I hoped that she was used to me spacing out by now, that I wouldn't have to explain it. I hoped that she knew somehow what I had been thinking…she reached out her hand, and I slid mine into the middle of the table, meeting her halfway. She looked deep into my soul, searching for the root of my pain, as though if she looked hard enough, she would be able to find it. I opened my mouth to speak, but realized I didn't know where to start or what to say, so I closed it again.

"Maureen, what is it?" I sighed.

"Joanne…you don't deserve this," she looked confused, trying to formulate a question, so I just continued, "You don't deserve a girlfriend who can't keep herself together, who cheated on you with her ex-boyfriend on so many occasions, producing a daughter, who drags you constantly through Hell, who forces you to take care of said daughter, but won't tell you what's wrong, who cuts herself and every other second is contemplating suicide. You deserve to have everything. You were right to run away last time. You shouldn't love me." She looked wounded at my words, like she was about to cry. She squeezed my hand tightly.

"I can't believe that you would say something like that. Honeybear, you are everything that I have ever wanted and so much more. You have always been there for me, and even though we may have our disputes, you are still everything to me. You have always been so much more than I could have ever dreamed of. Just because you aren't perfect doesn't mean that no one should love you. I'm not perfect either. Leaving you alone was the stupidest thing that I have ever done in my life, and I promise that I will never do it again. I love you more than anything, and nothing could possibly change that. You need me now more than you ever have before, and I know that scares you, but you can't be afraid to take my hand. I am here for you." She picked up her mug and led me to the couch. She sat down first, and I lay down, resting my head on her lap. I was at a loss for words, but as I looked at the baby monitor, hearing a soft, sleepy sigh, the events of the previous night came back to haunt me.

"Mimi told me that I don't deserve her." I couldn't stop the tears from coming, and Joanne looked stunned. I sat up, moving to the opposite end of the couch, unable to comprehend my own sudden discomfort. "I was so awful today…I was thinking that if I killed myself, she would be okay until you came home…and everything would be better…honey, I don't know how to stop these thoughts and I don't know what to do! I'm so scared that…that…"

"Shh, sweetie…it's okay…it's okay…I'm here now…I've got you." She pulled me closer to her, wrapping her arms around me. I felt so at home, so protected in her arms…it was the only place that I ever wanted to be…and I held onto her as though my life depended on it, clinging tightly and sobbing into her chest until I felt my body in tune with hers, her heartbeat lulling me to sleep…

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**AN:**The reviews for last chapter were pretty good, and made me happy. Not to be obnoxious, but let's try for at least five this time :) I'll still update even it we don't make five, but still. Thanks for your support on this story :) This chapter isn't that exciting, but whatever. I can't decide if I'm going to make the next chapter fluffy or dramatic. Input would be nice, but I can't guarantee I will follow it :) Thanks for reading, and don't forget to review! 


	36. Chapter 36

**AN:** Your feedback was so incredible last chapter-- nine reviews! Yay! Keep up the good work, guys, and I'll keep doing my best! FYI-- This chapter is really long, and also one paragraph is graphic. This is fluffy...next chapter won't be, I promise, unless you want it to be...which means, of course, don't forget to review! But, I do think there will be some drama in the next chapter...in the meantime, enjoy!

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When I woke up the next morning, I was miraculously in my bed, but Joanne wasn't there. That didn't surprise me, as it was a normal occurrence, until I remembered she had said that she wasn't going to work that day. I heard two people talking in a low, hushed tone from somewhere else in the apartment, but I couldn't understand what was being said. I heard Marcie start to cry, and dragged myself out of bed, curious about what was going on. I found Mark and Joanne talking by the door, Mark laden with Marcie's things, and Joanne in the process of handing her over to him.

"Hey, Maureen. Mark is going to take Marcie for the day so that you and I can spend some time together…and they can bond a little too." I nodded, yawning.

"That sounds good. It's really important to me that she and Marky have a strong bond." I rubbed his shoulder, and kissed the baby, who was now in his arms, on the head. I smiled at Mark. "Have fun, okay?" He nodded, looking slightly overwhelmed. "Mark, you'll be great. I promise." He nodded and headed out the door with the bundled up baby strapped to his chest, which made me laugh, kissing Mark on the cheek, teasing him because of how cute he looked. Joanne laughed along with me as he blushed wildly. I yelled that I still loved him, even though he looked silly, and he flipped me off behind his back. It was funny.

"Well Maureen, you certainly seem to be in a better mood this morning!" I nodded.

"It's all thanks to you, Pookie. If you hadn't been so wonderful last night…I don't know what I would have done. Really, I am so grateful that you had the patience to put up with all of that…" She put a finger to my lips to silence me, then put her mouth where her finger had been, drawing me deeply into a kiss. I pushed her down onto the couch, sliding my hands up beneath the Harvard t-shirt that she wore to bed, my hands separating my breasts from her own. I pulled her t-shirt off over her head and traced one of her nipples with my tongue. I felt it get hard, and took it between my teeth, sucking hard. I ran my hands over her ribcage and down lower, liberating her from her pants and underwear simultaneously, tracing down her chest and stomach with my tongue, then down her leg, tracing her inner thigh in a teasing manner. I knew exactly what to do to make her moan. I ran my tongue over her hot, moistened core, feeling the heat between my own legs building. With each sigh and groan of pleasure that escaped her lips, I found it harder and harder to contain my own enthusiasm. Her hips rocked towards me, and I slid my hands down her back to rest on her butt, teasing her with my tongue. She whimpered and groaned in frustration as I gently blew into her and traced her opening with my tongue. When I slid my tongue into her, she shuddered out of deliciously painful pleasure, needing me to fulfill her as I continued to drag her along. I traced around her swollen lips and feminine core with my fingers as my mouth found its way to the neglected nipple. She was panting now, hard, bucking, whining, and her body tensing. I thrust three fingers into her, pushing hard on her center with my thumb, as I sucked hard on her hardened, swollen nipple and she was gone, screaming out my name. I whispered in her ear "Take that as my thanks, Pookie". She smiled as she caught her breath, flipping me down onto the couch. She took off my pants and underwear, which were wet with my desire, and regarded me in the same manner as I had her, doing to me every little thing that I loved and loved to hate, making moan and scream and cry out her name, until I met the same fate as she had.

"Maureen…that was…" I was still breathing heavily, Joanne lying on top of me.

"Yeah."

"Well, believe it or not, that was not what I had planned for today…" I giggled and kissed her, and we seemed in danger of a repeat…not that that would have been so bad… "Maureen…"

"Okay! I'm sorry! What were you saying?" I couldn't prevent a wide smile from spreading across my face. I was so happy that she had taken off from work just for me, so happy just to be with her, to feel loved…

"Well, we still have some things to talk about, and I want to make sure that I am doing everything that I can to help you, but first and foremost, we're going to go out to eat and take a walk through the park, and wherever else you want to go…because we haven't gotten to do that in a long time, and I know how much you like that." I smiled, wrapping my arms around her and kissing her again.

"I love you so much, Pookie. You are so wonderful to me…" She smiled and kissed me back, and then stood up, our lips still locked as we drunkenly stumbled towards the bathroom, still naked, intoxicated by our love for one another. She turned on the water and we continued to caress one another as we waited for it to heat. I almost slipped as I got into the shower, but she caught me and pinned me up against the wall, the hot water only serving to make us more eager and hungry as we passionately delved into one another, the steam heightening the smell of sex by intensifying it and mixing with the heady vanilla aroma of my soap and the other scents that I associated with Joanne, such as her shampoo. Our lips were rarely separated as we touched and washed each other, finishing the shower feeling satisfied and renewed, and even more in love than before. I couldn't have been happier…_this is the way that life ought to be, not worrying about messing up, just living and loving…in the end, love is all that matters…I want to be remembered that way, when I die…not this constantly depressed, on edge mess! I don't want my daughter to know me like that._ Joanne, who was now fully dressed, came back to see me staring at myself in the mirror, absently drying my hair with a towel.

"You okay, honey?" I blinked and then smiled widely.

"Of course. Why wouldn't I be?" Joanne merely shrugged and kissed me before going about putting on her makeup. I finally walked out of the bathroom, slapping her ass in passing, wondering what was wrong with me that I couldn't even enjoy basking in the glorious glow of some of the best sex that I had ever had. "Pookie?" I called as I started to dress myself.

"Yes, Maureen?"

"I love you." She poked her head out of the bathroom, smiling.

"I love you, too." She blew me a kiss, and I grinned from ear to ear. "Now, put on a shirt!" I searched through my clothing, which lay mostly on the floor of the closet, if not the floor of the bedroom, to find the most revealing clothes that I owned. I had more or less returned to my normal figure by now, that is, before being pregnant and before losing ridiculous amounts of weight, because all being said, I really hadn't gained much from my ideal weight, maybe ten pounds. I found a deep red tank top that barely concealed my breasts and a tight, short leather skirt that hardly left anything to the imagination. I hadn't noticed how drab and frumpy my wardrobe had become until right then, and I found that I missed dressing provocatively all too much. This time, however, I wasn't dressing for anyone but Joanne and myself, and I was determined that I wasn't going to flirt with anyone (except for Pookie, of course). I went back into the bathroom, quickly and expertly running some gel through my hair and putting on my makeup in record time. Given my tendency to be late, everyone always assumed that it took me forever to get ready, but really that wasn't true. I was just disorganized and forgetful. It always astounded Joanne how quickly I could be ready to go when I wanted to. We kissed once more, hands roaming over one another, before heading out the door.

We held hands as we walked, or were always touching once another in some capacity, getting awkward glances and even sometimes applause for our little love gestures or random make out sessions. I kept my eyes and mind glued on Joanne at all times, basking in the warm, fuzzy feeling that I got from being near her, protected in her embrace.

When we finally got to the small diner that we had in mind, we sat at a booth in the corner, which allowed for maximum closeness as we could just slide up next to one another. We sat, legs entwined kissing, when an awkward looking young gentleman came to take our order. We looked up at him and giggled, Joanne fixing my hopelessly smudged red lipstick, which was my signature look, or at least used to be. My promiscuous and overall just physically affectionate behavior had been my trademark in my early twenties, and as I got older, the same behaviors maintained, only it was a very rare occasion that I did anything with a random stranger. Usually I reserved myself only for Joanne, and the only person I had cheated on her with in the past decade or so had been Mark. Which didn't really make it any better, but at least I knew and loved him. But I needed to stop finding excuses for my mistakes. At least Marcie had come out of one of my bigger mistakes. Joanne ordered French toast for both of us, and I didn't object, I merely prayed that I would be able to keep it down. I hadn't completely gotten over my eating difficulties, and my stomach was very temperamental. Half of the time I would be completely fine, the other half of the time I puked like there was no tomorrow. Joanne seemed to sense my body tensing up, so she whispered softly in my ear,

"Honeybear, it's okay if you can't. I won't be mad at you. I just want to help you out." I almost started to cry. _What the hell is wrong with you, Maureen? What the fuck? You need to eat._ My ability to keep down food had gotten progressively worse…it was like my morning sickness had never ended, only now the thought of eating often times repulsed me to the point of nausea.

"I'll try…I promise…" I bit my lip and looked up at the ceiling, trying to hold back my tears. She rubbed my back, instinctively knowing what I needed from her, how much her reassurance and physical comforting meant to me. I dropped my head onto her shoulder. When the waiter returned with our food, her smiled at us and took a picture with a Polaroid camera and gave it to us. When I asked why he took it, he said that we were perfectly in love, and that it deserved to be documented and preserved. I smiled at him, and told him that I admired what he was doing. He looked embarrassed and thanked me very politely. I turned and kissed Joanne lightly before addressing the syrupy mess on the plate before me. I stared at it, my stomach, which at been churning from the mere thought of food was now violently disagreeing with the sight and smell of it. I smiled at Joanne and excused myself to the restroom, where I barely made it to the toilet before expelling its contents. _Ugh! I thought that the only reason for this was that I was pregnant. I mean, I was never able to eat when I was nervous…I became projectile at times like that…_As I thought back, I remembered more and more what a struggle food had always been. It was surprising that I hadn't ever realized before what I problem I had had. It seemed I had gone from overeating to under-eating to now not even being able to eat. _I must really have a problem…_I walked over to the sink, having thought ahead and kept a toothbrush and toothpaste in my purse for just such and occasion. I brushed my teeth thoroughly before returning to Joanne.

"Honeybear, are you okay?" I nodded, trying to shake my paralyzing fear of starving myself because of not being able to eat, smiling at her. Feeling like I failure, but not willing to accept defeat, I determinedly forced down a forkful of the disgustingly sweet breakfast down my throat, willing my stomach not to expel it, feeling it threatening to come up, embarrassed. I closed my eyes, pulled my knees up and rested my forehead on it, my breath labored, almost in tears. Eventually I managed to force it down, having broken into a sweat and forced bile down numerous times. Joanne took a napkin and wiped my forehead, then hugged me and rubbed my back, whispering in my ear, "Maureen, I'm proud of you. You're trying so hard. I'm so proud of you. No matter what happens." Still afraid that my food would make a comeback, I merely nodded, not wanting to have to open my mouth, lest it come pouring out. The waiter returned, and embarrassed by my inability to eat more than a forkful, I couldn't force myself to look at him. Joanne was still holding me, and tears threatened to spill over. _How can I possibly be so inadequate? How does that happen? Even now, when I know that she's here for me, that she loves me, I still feel a failure. _Joanne paid the bill and left a generous tip on the table as I tried shake the unpleasant thoughts from my head. She put her arm around my shoulders once we were out of the diner, and rubbed my arm. "I really am proud of you." I stopped, and she looked into my eyes. "What's wrong?"

"I just…don't understand how you could possibly be proud of me. I don't understand how you can see me and think 'wow, that's the woman I love and cherish.' I just don't get it. What's so great about me?" She put a hand on each of my shoulders and spoke thoughtfully, but forcefully.

"Well, you are the most caring and passionate person that I have ever met. And you are gorgeous, smart, witty, brave…and you give everything at least a hundred and ten percent. You're also strong…you've been through more than anyone should have to go through. Honestly, I don't think that I'm worthy of you."

"But I've been unfaithful so many times, and I have so many problems! Who could possibly want that?"

"Okay, so you've made some mistakes, and you're going through a really tough time. Maybe we deserve each other."

"I couldn't possibly deserve you. You're too good."

"Maureen, stop this. I'm not better than you are." I sighed, realizing that I would never win this argument, that neither one of us could as we were both biased towards the other. She wrapped her arm around my shoulders again, and I wrapped my arm around her waist, resting my head against her shoulder. It felt right again. _Maybe I just have to stop thinking so much…_

We spent the rest of the day without really discussing anything of importance. We walked around the park, and I sang and danced with her to the music of street musicians. It was an incredibly warm and sunny day for October, the complete opposite of the day when I had fallen asleep on Collins' grave. Eventually we ended up at the graveyard, as per my request. We sat there, looking at Collins and Angel's tombstones.

"Pookie?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think they can see us?"

"I don't know. I like to think so."

"Do you think they'd be proud of me, too?"

"I know they are, baby. I know they are." I snuggled into her arms, feeling comforted.

"Do you think they're together? Having a blast?" I was sitting in her lap, and she bent her head over to the side as I looked back at her.

"Yes. I think they are."

"I want to be like that…with you forever."

"Me too." We looked deep into one another's eyes, and kissed with passion, urgency, love and complete trust, knowingly, feeling completely in sync with each other. It was one of the most beautiful moments that we shared that day.

Eventually, around seven, we found ourselves at the loft, ready to pick Marcie up and take her home. As I climbed the stairs to the loft, something felt of, though I tried to shake the nervous feeling that I had. _What could possibly be wrong? It's only Mark…_As we got closer, I heard a bunch of screaming and Marcie crying from within the loft, but then heard it suddenly cease, which did nothing to calm my growing sense of panic. I slid the door open, cautiously, clutching Joanne's hand desperately. I saw Mark, holding my baby, who was red-faced and unable to cry, it seemed, though she was trying to. He was holding her upside down on his thigh, and was positioned to strike her back, but every time his hand got close enough, he backed out. Roger stood behind him, screaming at him.

"Mark, if you don't do this she could die! Let me do it! Come on, Mark, this isn't getting anywhere." They hadn't seemed to notice my presence, so I declared it.

"What the Hell is going on here?" Mark looked suddenly very scared, and seemed to forget that he was holding Marcie, so Roger swooped in and took over. He hit her squarely between the shoulder blades five times, liberating a foreign object, which looked to be a button, from Marcie's throat. She was crying again, which, while annoying, was quite a relief. Roger rocked the child, humming until she was quieted. He suddenly became aware that all eyes were on him. I ran up to him and hugged him, awkwardly and gently, so as not to squish or disturb my child. "Thank you so much, Roger. I'm so glad you were here."

"Yeah, Mark never reacted well to emergencies…" Roger interjected. Mark rubbed his neck, obviously uncomfortable.

"Mark…it's okay. Your sweet and delicate nature is endearing, and you know how much I love that about you…but it is okay to hit the child if she's choking." He shrugged, mumbling something unintelligible, going to gather up the rest of her things. I took the child from Roger and asked how the rest of they day had been.

"It was great. I really liked getting to spend time with her. Mimi saw her, and I think that the idea is starting to grow on her…" Roger nodded in agreement.

"She just needs some time, Mo. I'm really sorry about everything she said to you…"

"It wasn't your fault, Rog." Mark continued.

"She was no trouble at all, except for…that button incident. I think maybe we should do a little baby-proofing." Roger laughed.

"I don't think this place will ever be safe for a baby." I nodded in agreement and Joanne chuckled as she moved toward me, snaking an arm around my waist and resting her chin on my shoulder. Roger's eyes sparkled as he looked at us and inquired, "How was your day?", raising his eyebrows suggestively.

"It was incredible," I said, laughing, before turning to kiss Joanne lightly on the lips. Mark looked a little grossed out, clearly having a mental image of Joanne and I together, having sex. His facial expression made me laugh even harder. Roger rolled his eyes, clearly choosing not to address Mark's behavior, and Joanne, similarly ignoring Mark, merely added on.

"I am so proud of her…she's really trying to turn things around." I felt a deep flush come over my lower neck, which caused Roger raise an eyebrow suspiciously.

"Maureen Johnson, blushing?"

"I'm not used to praise. Being called a slut I'm used to." There was an awkward silence just then, and Mimi walked through the door in the midst of it. We all stared at each other, reveling in the strange coincidence, not knowing what to expect Mimi to do or say. She came up to me, kissed Marcie, and looked at me apologetically.

"Maureen…I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said those things…I didn't mean them."

"I know. It must have been so hard for you…I'll be the first to admit that I'm an unfit mother…"

"No, don't say that about yourself. You really aren't. You're passionate about everything, and this baby is not different. You have so much shit going on right now, that's all. We all do. It's understandable. I really am happy for you." I sighed, wondering what I could say to her, not knowing what was appropriate.

"You know, Mimi…I really want you and Roger to be a part of her life. That's really important to me. I want her to spend time with you…you deserve to have a child to help raise. And this family…we're so close. I want that to be reflected in how she is brought up." She nodded, and I handed Marcie off to Joanne, so that I could hug Mimi. It was one of the most heart-felt embraces that I've been lucky enough to experience. It had surprised me how easily she had been able to forgive me, but it had been very out of character for her to snap at me as she had. I was glad that we were okay again, since Mimi was one of my best friends. _Overall, today was a pretty good day…I wonder what tomorrow will bring…_


	37. Chapter 37

**AN:** We're still doing pretty well with the reviews. Unfortunately, this is mostly just a filler chapter, because I was getting bored with the lack of passage of time, but I hope you like it anyway! I really would like for you to give me your opinions on it, and definitely critique it-- I especially want to know what you don't like, but if you _do_ like it, well, of course I'd love to know that! Feedback motivates me not to just stop writing! Enjoy.

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After that one beautiful day, I retreated into my same old frame of mind, Joanne's words and promises no longer seeming to hold any weight. As time went on, I continued to feel less and less adequate, and became continually weaker and less able to function on my own, thinking more and more about ending my life. I was unable to eat anything, unable to take care of Marcie, and completely petrified that I would do something wrong or hurt her if left alone her. Joanne had returned to her regular, crazy work schedule, and Mark was always out filming. Desperate, I would often try calling Roger or Mimi to come over and help me, but both of them had busy work schedules as well, or otherwise were just spending time with one another, or in other words having sex. I felt so alone and helpless, scared to death that something would happen to me…that I would collapse and nobody would be there to find me and the stove would be on or something and the apartment would catch on fire and Marcie would die. Usually these nightmares involved me dying, although that really didn't seem to matter—the terrifying thing was the death of my child. But those were nowhere near as terrifying as the fantasies in which I would purposefully hurt the child, or allow something bad to happen to her. Hypothetical me would feel grief immediately afterwards, and even in these fantasies I would end up killing myself from guilt and grief. 

My mind became once again the scariest place that I could be forced to stay in, but I was ashamed to tell anyone about my thoughts. They already thought that I was crazy enough, and I feared that they wouldn't love me anymore, and they wouldn't let me anywhere near my child. I was unable to sleep either during the night or the day. I tried to nap when Marcie did, but I would scare myself so much with hypothetical situations that I would be unable to relax enough to sleep. After I while, I found that I wasn't ever really tired, and always had to be moving. I couldn't lie in bed beside Joanne at night, and pretty soon all physical intimacy became a chore. I didn't enjoy it. We hadn't had sex in well over three months. I could tell that Joanne was hurt by this, and I continued to tell her that it wasn't her fault, but I didn't know why I was feeling this way, and thus couldn't explain it to her. I was afraid even to tell her what was going through my mind, because I knew that these depressive episodes scared her, and that was the last thing I wanted. I didn't want her to have to sacrifice anything else for me, and she really couldn't afford to take any more time off from work. Her parents, who ran the firm, refused to allow her to take maternity leave, which made sense because she hadn't been pregnant, and the paternity leave obviously didn't apply since she was missing the key genitalia to make a convincing father. I was afraid to tell her that I felt alone, that I needed her or support or anything, because I didn't want to be a burden, and more importantly, I didn't want her to feel guilty because there was nothing that she could do about her work schedule.

I felt often times as though the world were closing in on me, and longed for nothing more than someone to talk to, someone to help me. But I didn't want pity. And I didn't want them to feel that I would break. I was still trying to prove to Mimi that I deserved the child, and that meant being perfect. It got to a point, after I had nearly dropped Marcie after being overtaken by a coughing fit, that I didn't want to go near her or touch her. I felt so physically exhausted that I couldn't move, nor did I have any desire to, just collapsing on the couch having paroxysms of emotion, unable to contain my sobbing, frequently scaring the poor, innocent baby. I didn't speak to any of my friends after a couple of weeks, realizing that they were all too busy having lives to care about me or have enough time to help me out. Granted, my life had been boring and depressing before, so frequently being turned down from jobs and having difficulties getting permits for my protests, but I had had individuality, no matter how much I had hated who I was becoming. I felt like my entire life was now going to be defined by my ability to take care of Marcie, and that my failure would be unavoidable by all who had previously cared about me when they saw how horribly she was bound to turn out.

At the point when Marcie first began to crawl, the day, actually, that she crawled for the first time, Mark was over, filming her. I was overtaken by uncontrollable sobbing solely because I couldn't even remember how old she was, I hadn't noticed any of her developments, and when she started crawling, she went straight to Mark. I had completely lost track of the passage of time, not even having a calendar in the apartment, all of the days seemed to meld into one, especially since I never seemed to sleep anymore. I locked myself in my bedroom and wouldn't come out, although he didn't even seem to notice that I wasn't there. He was too enamored with Marcie, the daddy's girl. I couldn't help but be jealous that she favored him, especially since I had to tend to her all day, every day. He took her back to the loft with him, because when I finally pulled myself together enough to come out of my room, he was gone. I was hurt that he hadn't even thought to leave a note or tell me that he was leaving. He only usually managed to come over for about an hour once a week, as he had taken up a job in an art gallery that was short-handed and frequently had to work most of the time when he wasn't filming things for his movie projects, which he stopped telling me about. Whenever he was over, there wasn't even any friendly interaction between the two of us. He barely said "hello". I was feeling ridiculously under-stimulated from the amount of adult contact I got throughout the week. Joanne would usually come home at an ungodly hour and fall asleep about fifteen minutes after walking in the door.

I actually slept the day that Mark took her, falling asleep sobbing, waking up about fourteen hours later to Joanne's concerned gaze. She reached a hand out to touch my shoulder, but I flinched, launching myself out of bed, locking myself in the bathroom. I vomited several times before completely blacking out. I awoke in Joanne's arms some unknown amount of time later, seeing that she had broken the door down. She was rocking me in her arms and crying, holding me tightly.

"Jo, what's wrong?" She stared at me as though I had about nine heads.

"Maureen, honey, I am so sorry that I have let you down, that I let this go on for so long…baby, you need help. I'm so sorry that I haven't been here supporting you…" I weakly raised a hand to her lips, silencing her.

"It's not your fault. You're job is important. To you, the baby and me."

"Baby, you needed me. I should have been there for you. Look at yourself, Maureen. You cannot tell me that you are okay. What's going on?" I averted my eyes from her intent and intensely concerned gaze.

"I'm fine, Jo." I knew that she wouldn't believe me, heck, I didn't even believe myself, but I hoped that she would just let it drop.

"Honeybear, I've been meaning to talk to you about this for a while, but I wasn't sure how I should approach the matter, since it is a delicate one." _Oh God…is she going to leave me? She's found somebody else. I know it. She deserves better. She doesn't deserve to be stuck with me…I didn't really expect her to stay…_ "Maureen, baby, I think that you have post partum depression."

"What? English, please." She sighed and stroked my hair.

"A lot of women get depressed after they have children. I think you're suffering from that. My psychologist was telling me about it. I was so worried about you, and I didn't know where else to turn, baby. I just want you to be okay…"

"You WHAT? Why the hell would you bring some shrink into this? What the hell? I'm fine!" She looked hurt and overwhelmed, holding me tighter as I squirmed against her body, trying in vain to break free.

"My psychologist gave me some information about the disorder, and honey I know how much you hated going to the psychologist and psychiatrist and all of that, but…please baby, just consider it. I just want you to be happy again. I want you to be _Maureen_ again." I couldn't deny that the idea was tempting, and I really, desperately wanted to go back to being my normal self again, however fucked up that had been. I wanted to be able to enjoy life, and eat and have sex and have fun again! I sighed heavily, looking up into her eyes again.

"Okay, Joanne. We'll give it a shot." She looked relieved, and hugged me, kissing me on the forehead. She carried me to the bedroom, setting me down on the bed before retrieving some pamphlets from her purse.

"Honey, the first thing we should do is fill out this form. The answers will give us a better idea of what's going on with you, okay?" I nodded, feeling like a small, naïve child. "Okay then. First question: do you have a history of depression or substance abuse?" I rolled my eyes. "I know, honey. Obviously. If substance abuse, what kind? That would just be alcohol, right babe?" I became very uncomfortable. "Maureen, what's wrong?"

"Well I…there was…also…heroinandecstasyandmarijuana."

"What?"

"It was a long time ago, and I did it with Roger…"

"No, I didn't understand you. Say that again?"

"I did heroin, ecstasy and marijuana." She looked softly at me.

"Honey…baby…"

"I know. I should have told you, and I don't know why I didn't, but that was really dumb, and I'm so sor--"

"Shh. I know. It's okay. Next question. Do you have family history of mental illness?"

"Well, my aunt has schizophrenia…or, had it…until she killed herself, and my mother has manic depression...my father was always depressed. They never diagnosed it, though." She could tell, without me having to say anything, that this was a hard topic for me. I let myself be comforted by her as she stroked my back gently and whispered softly in my ear that everything was going to be all right.

"Next question--" her voice cut off suddenly as she frowned and grew quiet.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Do you have the support of friends and family? How would you rank it?" _This is going to be a fun one to answer!_ _What if she hates me for what I say?_

"I…I…push everyone away. I would have support…but everyone is so busy with having lives, and I don't want to be a burden." She held me as tears slid down my face, brushing my curls from my face, wiping my tears as they came.

"Baby girl…I'm here for you. I don't mean to be repetitive, but _please_ I am begging you, talk to me! You could never be a burden. I love you too much. The only thing that will make _me_ truly happy is if you are." Now I was really, truly crying…touched by the sincere emotion and concern.

"Can we finish this later? I'm tired."

"Honey, there are only three more questions. It'll be okay. Unless you really want to stop--"

"Fine. Let's just finish it."

"Anxiety about the baby?" She laughed, quickly clapping her hands over her mouth, apologizing and filling in the answer without waiting for a response. "Alright. Problems with previous pregnancy or birth—that's a no, right?" I shook my head, anxiety building up within me, not wanting to tell her the details of what had happened.

"I miscarried…twice." She looked taken aback, stunned. I was afraid that she would jump to conclusions or maybe just hate me forever, even without knowing the details. A part of me wanted to continue, and I tried to, but I couldn't. My vocal cords wouldn't allow it, so I took in a deep breath, hoping that it would calm me down, that I would be able to tell Joanne about it. She looked at me sympathetically now, running her hands through my hair, soothing me, telling me that whatever it was, it was okay. I merely shook my head, and she told me that it was okay, I could tell her whenever I was ready, but I could tell that she was hurt and suspicious.

"Do you want to continue baby?" I shook my head.

"Jo…I really…I'm sorry. I don't think I can. It's hard. Do you mind—can I just finish it by myself?" She looked skeptical, concerned and hurt.

"Are you sure? I really want to be here for you. I understand that it probably makes this harder for you to tell me these things, because obviously you didn't want me to know. I'll be right here for you when you're done, and you don't have to tell me anything. Just let me be here for you." I nodded, shaking somewhat as I took the paper from her, turning my back to her. It was fortunate that I took the paper from her when I did, because the last question asked if I was having any marital problems. _Technically no…technically we're not married…maybe we don't have problems, maybe I'm the only problem…I keep hurting her and I can't talk to her, I feel undeserving and I don't want her to worry so much and I don't want my inability to trust to continue to hurt her…_I answered the question hastily, shoving the paper into Joanne's bag and grabbing my apartment key and shoes, running out of the apartment. I didn't know where I was going, but I needed to be alone, to try to clear my mine or be alone with my thoughts. Since she had broken the bathroom door, that wouldn't have made an adequate hiding spot.

When I got outside, I saw that it was raining…or rather I felt it. The big, warm drops pelted me angrily as I ran. I didn't know where I was going…I didn't know what day or month it was. It was summer though, that much I could tell. I didn't know who to go to—it would have been awkward to talk to Mimi, and I really still needed to prove to her that I could do a good job and that I was handling it. I didn't want to talk to Mark because I was afraid he would take Marcie away, because he wouldn't trust me anymore. We weren't that close anymore, anyway. I certainly couldn't talk to Roger…what would her think? _God, Collins…I need you! I need you. Why did you have to die? It's not fair. You were the only one who really knew me, the only one who really cared…_


	38. Chapter 38

**AN:** Wow this update took a while, and unfortunately it isn't all that long...you guys have been so great with the reviews, though! Thank you so much for your continued support and feedback. That being said, I did fix the paragraphing for last chapter, if you want to check it out, and if not...just know that I _did_ listen to y'all. Keep the feedback coming! Hopefully the next update won't take too long :)

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I ran for blocks and blocks in the heavy rain, starting to get chilled from the amount of water now soaking my body. I knew that I didn't have anywhere to go, and that each block I ran would make it that much harder to get back to my apartment, but for the moment I didn't really care. I didn't know why exactly I was running, but it crossed my mind that I was trying to outrun my thoughts, though to no avail.

When I cam to my senses, I found myself, exhausted, soaked, chilled to the bone, essentially collapsed in Jefferson Park, with no idea how I had gotten that far from home, feeling completely hopeless and knowing there was no way in hell I'd have enough energy to get back. Granted, I no longer lived in the loft, and Joanne and I had a pretty nice apartment, but we lived very close to the East Village, though actually a bit farther from here than the loft was. Not that I would have been able to make it back to the loft, either, in this state, being that I was over a hundred streets even from there. _Of course it would be Jefferson Park…_I laughed bitterly, hating myself for being so stupid.

Sighing, I rummaged through my pockets to see if I had any money with me, which I actually, surprisingly, happened to. Granted, it was no fortune, and thus I obviously couldn't afford a cab back, but the subway would have to do. I hadn't realized that I had my cell phone with me until I heard it ringing from the depths of my baggy green pants. Upon finding said phone, I obviously answered it. Before I could even speak, I was bombarded.

"MAUREEN! Where the hell are you? Why haven't you been answering your phone? I was worried about you! Are you okay?"

"I'm in Harlem. I don't know how I got here. I'm taking the subway home." I heard Joanne sigh heavily from the other end. "Jo…I'm so sorry. I just…I don't know what's wrong with me. I need help and I know it but…I don't want to admit it. I just have this overwhelming sense of defeat and I can't take it. I was trying to clear my mind, to outrun my thoughts, but it didn't work. I guess I was trying to get away from my life, but I know that I can't, and I just want to make things right between us. And fix things between myself and everyone else. I need to fix my life."

"I know baby. Just…come home and we can talk, sweetie." I was crying now, furious with myself for my stupidity. I managed to find a seat on the subway car, much to my delight, as I though that if I stood any longer I would collapse. As it was, I fell asleep in my seat for an ungodly amount of time, waking up at the stop before mine, miraculously.

Groggy and sore, I dragged myself from the seat and out of the station feeling dizzy and dehydrated. I bought water from a hot dog vendor with the last of the money in my pockets. I sat down on the steps to a random building, my head throbbing, my muscles screaming, and drank the water slowly. When I finished, I remained there thinking, closing my eyes gently, arms crossed on top of my knees, resting my forehead on my arms.

"Maureen?" _Oh great._

"Hi Mark." I didn't even bother to open my eyes, and because of that was startled when he placed his hand on my shoulder, as I hadn't known how close he was to me.

"What are you doing here? Are you okay?" I looked up, realizing that I was, indeed, outside of the loft. _Oops._ He extended a hand to help me up, which I took eagerly, not knowing if I would have been able to get up on my own. My head was spinning when I stood up, causing me to wobble and almost fall. I ignored Mark's concern as he helped me up to the loft, to weak and tired to object to his help or insistence that I come with him.

He sat me down on the couch, then threw some dry clothes of his own at me when he emerged from his bedroom after changing his own soaked garments. I changed as he made put on water to make tea. When it was ready, he returned and handed me a cup, which I nursed mainly to return the warmth to my hands, finding myself not at all surprised that I was unable to adequately warm myself, even in the summer, although in my defense, it was a rather chilly night. Mark wrapped a blanket around me and sat on the milk-crate table before me, looking at me with an intent and concerned gaze. I looked down, tracing the chipped rim of my mug.

"Maureen, what's going on? You haven't really been yourself lately." I felt rage building up within me.

"How the fuck would you know that? I only see you once a week very briefly, and it's not like you ever even speak to me!" He looked astounded and slightly hurt. "Sorry." He shrugged.

"I guess I have sort of been neglecting you. I didn't want to intrude. You locked yourself in the bathroom! I tried to tell you that I was leaving, but you didn't respond! Of course I knew something was going on with you. I love you…you're like…a sister to me." I could tell that those last words took a lot of effort for him, and was suddenly overwrought with emotion. I put the mug down, hugging my legs into myself, burying my face in them, feeling warm, wet circles growing on them. I head him trying to soothe me, felt him sit down beside me and take me in his arms as I cried uncontrollably.

When I recovered, I rose begrudgingly, much to the dismay of my entire body, but knowing that I needed to get back to Joanne. Mark looked confused and concerned, and I told him the situation. He nodded, embracing me tightly before I left. I thanked him for helping me out, telling him I'd have his clothes ready for him to take the next time he came over as I walked out the door, my heart sinking as I realized it could well be a while before I got another opportunity to speak to him as I so desperately wanted to, knowing that by leaving and blowing this chance I would probably have to suffer through potentially several more weeks of brief visits and jealousy over the amount of attention he paid to Marcie. I bumped into Mimi on the way out, and she seemed disappointed that she had caught me on my way out, telling me that she was going to give me a call sometime soon. I nodded, smiling, telling her that I missed her, and continued on my way.


	39. Chapter 39

**AN:** So, this update was much quicker! What was up with only _two reviews_ last chapter? Come on guys, you can do better! I believe in you! Thanks, though, so much for reading, especially to those of you who keep reviewing! You are amazing! _Please review, and I will love you forever :)_ This chapter is happy! Yay! Enjoy!

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When I returned to my apartment, my things had been packed for me, and there was a brochure and plane tickets set out for me, which made me realize she was sending me away to crazy camp. _Great, exactly what I need. What the fuck is she thinking? This is not cool...where the hell is she?_

"Joanne? What the fuck is this?" I yelled in shrill voice, panicking, my voice resonating throughout the apartment. I realized that screaming was not the best course of action when Marcie started screaming. _Shit._ Joanne finally emerged from the bedroom, looking extremely tired.

"Where were you?" She looked very perturbed that I had the nerve to wake her, but I was pissed and had a right to be so! The suspicion in her voice didn't help, either, but I was too tired to blow up at her. My response was thus fittingly quite monotone, and didn't even sound like me. _Introducing, for your viewing pleasure, Maureen Johnson, human turned automaton!_

"I wasn't feeling well, and Mark found me, so I went up to the loft for a little while." She nodded, trying to believe me, not wanting to upset me.

"Okay, well, this place—in California—supposedly has one of the best therapy programs. I only want the best for you, and I want you to get better. You know that right?" I nodded sadly, not knowing what else to do, or how exactly to respond. In short, I found myself on an airplane the very next day, being carted off to uncharted territory, pissed and scared out of my mind. Mimi, Roger, Mark, Joanne, and Marcie all accompanied me to the airport, and I clung to each of them desperately, begging and pleading for them to let me stay, but knowing that if I didn't go, things would keep getting worse and worse.

I spent the next two months under intensive therapy, having my brain reprogrammed, and all the while feeling like I was going crazier than I already was. The only high points were when my friends would call me, or Mark would send me videotapes of Marcie. I missed her first word, but he got it on tape, as I'm sure he got pretty much every second of her life when he was around. Sometimes the tapes would have other things on them, too. I was really starting to see that they did care about me, and while I didn't notice the changes when I was there, when I returned to my normal life, I felt as though an enormous weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I didn't think about suicide anywhere near as much.

Joanne actually flew out with Marcie to retrieve me, for which I was extremely grateful, the human contact making me feel whole again, finding that I had missed my family all too much. I was literally in tears, unable to stop crying when Jo walked through the door with the beautiful baby girl in her arms. I embraced her warmly, careful not to smother the little angel in her arms.

When we returned to New York, the first place that we went was the loft, and I was engulfed in more hugs than I ever would have thought possible from my three best friends, other than Joanne, of course. I had finally been able to cope with losing Collins in the sense that being around them didn't remind me of him as much, and I didn't burst into tears thinking about him. I was still grieving, of course, but it was getting a little better. I could tell that they were all relieved at how happy I seemed, though I didn't know how much of that was from the therapy and how much was from being finally set free, though I suspected more of the latter. Regardless, the awful experience had proved helpful, although this was only the _very_ short run.

It felt so good to sleep in my own bed again, want to have sex with my partner—and do it—again, it had been over half a year since we had last gone at it, and the gratification was intensely amazing, as I had never felt. Time certainly makes the heart and…ahem…girly regions grow fonder. This sex definitely topped any before. Marcie was really sleeping through the night now, which made this all the better. _What _will_ we do about sex when this child gets bigger?_ I didn't let the thought bring me down, literally glowing from the wonder of the pleasure I had just been provided with. I slept better that night than I had in probably over a year, waking up feeling completely rejuvenated, which had _never_ happened to me before. I even woke up at a reasonable hour the following morning!

Joanne had, once again, managed to take a few days off from work, which made me more than ecstatic—so happy that there wasn't even a word to express the feeling of elation that I had. I awoke still in her arms, which was a rare occurrence, even at our best points in the relationship, which instantly put me in a good mood. We lingered, planting sweet kisses on one another until Marcie began to cry, announcing that she was awake. Joanne and I seemed to move as one entity when we got up to address the child. The instant we entered the room, she quieted, and when I picked her up, she smiled a goofy, innocent little baby smile. I kissed her and she giggled. This was how life was supposed to be. Joanne's arms were wrapped around me, and in that instant, we were the perfect family, and tears of happiness and joy sprang forth from my eyes.

"Maureen, honey, what's wrong?" She turned me around to face her, baby still in my arms, and gently kissed my cheeks, catching my tears in her lips.

"Nothing…everything is perfect. It's just…to think…that I couldn't see this…that I almost gave up…" She rubbed my back, holding me as tightly as she could without squishing Marcie.

"Shh…baby, it's all right now. Everything is fine. You're okay, and you're still here. You did it, honey, just like I knew you could." _Is it really possible for things to be this perfect? Not that I'm complaining. It's so surreal…_


	40. Chapter 40

**AN:** Ahh! Sorry the update took so long! Your feedback was, as always, incredible. Hope you like the chapter, and don't forget to review!

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Once Marcie had stopped fussing, I set her back down in the crib, and Joanne went to take a shower. I stepped out onto the fire escape and looked down at the city below. It was only about eight in the morning, which was not an hour that I was at all accustomed to being awake at. It was kind of nice because the city wasn't at its usual hustle and bustle yet, although by now means was it dead. I laced my feet through the gaps in the guardrail around the fire escape, pulling my body up against it, balancing on the bars. I breathed in deeply and slowly let the air back out of my lungs. It was incredible to be back home again. The therapy center had been dark and disgusting—I felt as though I couldn't breathe there. It wasn't New York, and I had no freedoms, aside from the fact that it was a commercialized, sterile hellhole.

I didn't notice Joanne come out to the fire escape until I felt her arms around my waist, which startled me, though fortunately she had a tight hold on me.

"Hey Maureen?" I stepped down off of the railing, turning around to face her.

"Yeah?" She tucked a loose curl behind my left ear.

"This may seem a bit out of the blue, but do you remember before you left, when we were going through all of those questions?"

"Uh huh…"

"I don't mean to press, and if you don't want to tell me, that's perfectly fine, but…you said that you had two miscarriages…I was just wondering…about the stories behind that…" I smiled lightly, rolling my eyes at her curiosity.

"It's okay Jo. I want to tell you. You're just going to have to be patient…it's hard for me, okay?" She nodded. I took a deep breath and cleared my throat. "Let's go back inside, okay?" I took her hand and led her into the living room. We sat down on the sofa and turned to face one another. "You have to understand…my relationship with Mark has had a lot of ups and downs."

"So were both of them with him?" I nodded, watching myself pick at my crimson fingernails.

"We were together for a really long time…the first time I wasn't trying…I didn't realize I was pregnant until a couple months in…and one of my protests got really out of hand…there was a police officer and he--" my voice cracked, and I took a few deep, shaky breaths—"He beat me. It was awful police brutality." She gasped. "I didn't report him because I didn't want anyone to know that something like that could happen to me. Mark took me to the hospital and kept it a secret from Roger…he dismissed it as my promiscuity. After that…I actually wanted to have a baby. I had been with Mark for years, and I hadn't ever loved anyone before Mark. I thought that we were going to be together forever. After the second time, we fell apart."

"What happened that time?"

"We tried for about a year and a half until it finally happened. We were actually going to get married on the day when it happened. I pushed him away…I pushed him away. I was so stupid. We never told Roger about it. That was when I met you…about a week after that." I could sense a slight sense of hurt in Joanne's eyes, so I dropped my eyes down to my hands again. "I'm sorry…that sounded bad."

"No, Maureen, it's alright. I'm glad that you told me." She took me in her arms and held me tight. "You are so strong and brave, and it is amazing to me that you have made it through all that you have."

"I wouldn't still be here without you…without your perseverance and love." We just sat there, holding each other until the phone began to ring.

"Hey it's Maureen and Joanne, leave a message and when we're _available_ we'll give you a call!" The sound of my happy, joking voice made me smile. _I wonder how old that message is…_

"Hey Maureen, it's Mark. I was just wondering if you…"

"Hello? It's Maureen."

"Hey. How are you feeling?" I rolled my eyes.

"I'm fine. I really wish people would stop asking me that."

"I'm sorry, I just don't know how to act around you…"

"It's just me, Mark. And I'm not going to break anymore."

"I was just wondering if you and I could have lunch today…I haven't talked to you in a really long time. I know that it hurt you that I wasn't able to spend more time with you before, but I really do miss you." I felt my eyes tearing up when he said that he missed me. I asked Joanne, and she told me to go ahead, that I needed to see him. Besides, Joanne was going to stop in at work to check on things and try to get a couple more days off.

"Of course. That's fine. Should I bring Marcie or…" I heard him talking to someone else in the background.

"Mimi can watch her. We'll come over there around one, okay?"

"That sounds great. See you then!"


	41. Chapter 41

**AN:**I feel like I'm always saying this, but sorry the update took so long. I really appreciate your comments, so keep them coming! Hopefully for the next couple weeked my updates will be pretty good, but the rest of my summer is pretty booked, although I will try to update as much as possible! Thanks so much for reading, and don't forget to review!

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Shortly after I hung up with Mark, Joanne got up and proceeded to get ready to go to work. I thought I sensed that she was irritated with me, but I wasn't really sure. I attributed her odd behavior to the fact that I had jut unloaded a lot of information on her and she needed time to process all that I had just told her—hell, even I couldn't really make sense of the emotions surrounding Marcie and my prior pregnancies, and I had been under intensive therapy. I guess the problem with being revolutionary or having an unorthodox family is that nobody knows how to help you make sense of your situation and just try to categorize you. I can't be dealt with in that cookie cutter method. I don't want to be like everyone else—all I want is to be happy. I tried to push these thoughts out of my head, but I couldn't. I stepped back out onto the fire escape, realizing that I missed the loft, the roof of the loft. When I used to live with the boys, everything of importance seemed to happen up there, epiphanies, songwriting, protest planning, even filmmaking and acting rehearsals. You could be alone or with other people. Roger used it the most, I think, and he probably still does. It is a very sentimental place for all of us, I think that once of my first dates with Mark was on the roof, because we didn't have enough money to go anywhere. I felt a hand on my shoulder and jumped. It was only Joanne.

"You okay?" She seemed, for some reason, in hurry to leave, though I couldn't think why she would possibly be in a rush unless she just couldn't stand being around me right now, which would be completely understandable. But, nonetheless, she seemed willing me to say that I was fine. I _wasn't_ fine, not really, but Mark was coming over, so I merely sighed and nodded.

"I'm good. Are you? Okay, I mean? I know that was a--" She cut me off by placing two fingers on my lips.

"Maureen, I'm fine. I just need a little time to process. You know I'm like that." I nodded, but still had a nagging feeling. She seemed to notice, so she pulled me into a deep and loving kiss. The kiss caused a swirl of intense emotion within me, my throat began to close up, and my eyes were burning with tears. I held them back, and if Joanne noticed my reaction, she ignored it. She said goodbye and left. Once she was gone, I broke down. _I thought I was done with this!_ I thought angrily. I kicked the railing hard, sending pain shooting through my foot, but I ignored it. I went inside, trying to find clothes to wear, but ended up just throwing everything around the room in a furious rage, and ended up falling on the floor, sobbing in the middle of a pile of clothes. Marcie was crying, but I couldn't bring myself to get up.

Eventually, I managed to force myself to get up, and looking at the clock, I saw that it was already eleven. _Shit._ I ran over to my still crying baby, remembering that my motivation had been the neighbors screaming at me. I felt dazed. _Did I fall asleep?_ I shook my head, trying to gain clarity. I picked up the child, realizing that she needed to be fed, an also, to my displeasure, that she needed a diaper change. I addressed the diaper first, with disgust, but realizing that the dirty diaper would be much less gross off of her than on her. I then fed her, wondering when exactly my body would be _mine_ again, although holding her firmly to my chest.

"I love you baby. I'm sorry that I'm so messed up sometimes, Marcie, but I love you." When she was done, I gently kissed her tiny forehead. She cooed, and I couldn't help but fall for my darling child yet again. She was so beautiful.

I was sprawled out on my bed, still in pajamas, or rather the robe that I had thrown on when I wanted to go out on the fire escape earlier, when there was a sharp rap on the door. _Shit. I can't believe I did that again. Although, I did wake up earlier than usual today…_

"I'm coming!" I screamed. I didn't bother to put on clothes. It was just Mark and Mimi anyway. "Hey guys!" I was right, of course, about who was at the door. They eyed me cautiously, suspiciously. I smiled broadly at them, and they looked at each other, seemingly concerned. "You guys, I'm fine! Honestly!"

"I didn't say anything…" Mark smiled as he said this, then stepped closer to me, embracing me warmly. Mimi did likewise and then went to get Marcie. After giving her a few instructions for the care of our daughter, Mark and I departed for the Life. As we walked, Mark questioned me carefully.

"So…was it as horrible as it sounds?" I thought for a moment about how to respond.

"Well, there were definitely benefits…but I can't live in isolation like that…you know me. And everyone was so condescending and saccharin sweet there…ugh…just ugh." Sopping in front of the café, he laughed, then took one of my hands in his, willing me to look in his eyes. I complied.

"How are you—really? Are you okay?" I looked at him as though he were crazy, and was about to say that I was perfectly all right, but I stopped. He knew something was up, although unfortunately, he was probably about as in tune to my problems as I was. He seemed to understand all of this without me having to say a word, and hugged me lightly. "It's okay. We'll figure this out." He kissed me lightly on the forehead and led me into the café, being the perfect gentleman and even pushing my chair in for me. I couldn't help but smile at how sweet Mark was, and thoughtful.

The menus were sitting on the table before us, neither of us really paying them much mind, although I did catch Mark looking at me, probably contemplating whether or not to ask about my eating situation. While in that sense I wasn't completely better, I didn't suspect that anyone had expected me to be, although I had improved considerably and could manage to stomach small amounts of food, and was expected to continue therapy. The waiter came around and took our orders, leaving us staring at one another in silence, though not necessarily an awkward one. Then, out of the blue, Mark spoke.

"Maureen, I am so sorry that I wasn't around for you before. I should have been—and I knew that something was very wrong with you—God, I was so worried for the longest time—but I didn't say anything because…well, because I was hurt, and as stupid as it sounds, I wanted to stay on good terms with you. I didn't think that I could survive without you in my life, and I didn't want to jeopardize the relationship. But that was stupid. You could have died…and I was so hurt that you chose Joanne that I couldn't even go near you, and I couldn't stand to be around you so you thought that I was ignoring you, and I was so concerned about you but I didn't do anything…I shouldn't have ignored you." I looked at him softly, my eyes beginning to well up with tears.

"Marky…I feel so badly that you had to go through all of this. It wasn't your responsibility to take care of me, and I don't hold it against you. It isn't your fault. I'm sorry for all of the pain that I have caused you. You deserve only the best." I ran my thumb across his cheek, which I discovered was wet, although I couldn't see that he was crying because of the tears in my own eyes. "You are one of the most important people in my life, and I hate that I made you feel so rejected…I didn't mean to, really, truly. I wish that things could have been different, and maybe they should have been…but even now I don't know what choice would have been the best. It weighs heavily on my heart every day, and I don't know what to make of it. I wish I could have had you both. You know that, right?" He nodded.

"I will always love you, my heart will always belong to you." I felt my heart break a little bit more.

"A huge part of me will always be yours, and yours alone. Don't ever doubt that, okay?"

"Okay. But only if you never forget that I love you, and that you can tell me anything, especially that you need me." I nodded, and we hugged awkwardly across the table.

"Marky...I um, told Joanne about...the miscarriages." He looked at me as though he hadn't comprehended what I had said, and then, when he had finally processed it, I sensed a great deal of pain come across his features, as though he had never really dealt with it, of course neither had I, prior to my therapy. "Mark?" He cleared his throat and shrugged.

"She has a right to know."

"It still bothers you, doesn't it?"

"I can't help but think that if they had never happened, you would still be mine...the second one...if it had been okay..." His voice was breaking, and I felt an intense sense of loss and regret, which was eating at me like a black hole.

"I know. I am so sorry...I...I can see us...being so happy...I do still wish for the family that we would have had, the marriage...it seems fo perfect and so...far away. Things got so complicated, you know? I know I screwed everything up, mainly it is my fault for having gotten involved with Joanne. I never wanted to hurt you. I just couldn't cope with what was happening." He seemed to understand, although I knew that it didn't make him feel all that much better, but he took comfort in the fact that I had the same dream as he did. "I'm still not always certain that I made the right choice, but I think that things are getting better." He looked rather contemplative for a long moment, and then spoke.

"I concur. It is getting better and everything will work out sooner or later." Our food came shortly thereafter, and I ate most of the food on my plate, which surprised both Mark and me. We lingered for a while, chatting about nothing in particular, very lightheartedly, which we hadn't done in a very long time. I was happy, truly happy, and the nagging feeling went away, and I felt as though I huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders, at least for the moment.


	42. Chapter 42

**--AN: It has been way too long since my last update. I promise I am really trying to be better about updating my stories, so bear with me. I only have one more story that I haven't updated in a million years, and then I'll start updating this and my other stories more often. _Please, please, please_ keep reading this story, and _review it_! Last chapter, I only got 1 review, and that made me very sad. I think it might be nearing the end of this story, but I'm really not sure yet****--**

After I returned to the apartment after spending the day with Mark, my food made a comeback, which didn't surprise me as I had known that my body wasn't used to keeping food down—especially not that much, although it was better than it had been before I left. I was still pissed at myself for being incapable of such a simple thing as eating. I knew that I should have called the therapist that I had in California, who told me to call whenever I needed to, but I really didn't want to, probably mostly out of embarrassment, or maybe pride. I knew that seemed stupid, logically, since the therapist had seen me at my worst, but I couldn't help it.

That night, I couldn't sleep (or not well, anyway). Every time I started to drift off, my mind would go back to what Mark had said, or I would dream fitfully about the miscarriages. They were probably by far the most painful events of my life. Nobody can know the pain that a woman goes through when she loses a child, no matter how little she actually thinks she wants it, or even if she doesn't know she is pregnant until she has already lost it. Losing two children is more than any woman should have to bear. I can't deny that I am happy that Marcie lived, no matter how much trouble it caused. I know that sleeping with Mark isn't really morally justified, and logically I know that it was wrong of me to sleep with him, but in my heart I really don't feel that it was a mistake. I will always love him, truly, for as long as I live. At least now I don't have to worry about never having kids.

The face of the sleazy cop who killed my first child haunted me. He was disgusting and slimy, and clearly sexually frustrated. He smelled horrible—like garlic, body odor and fish. He violated me, knowing full well that I was pregnant. He took joy in ruining my protest, taking from me my dignity and the life of the baby within me. But I was too stupid to take him to court. I'm pretty sure he would have paid off the judge, anyway. And even if he hadn't, the judge would have seen me as white trash. And I had been to court and arrested on various occasions prior to the incident. He would've found some crap charge to indict me on and I would've been fucked. Every time I fell asleep I would relive that hell. I thought that I had gotten over it with all of the therapy I had, but it still haunted me. It made me sick to think that he has probably done the same thing to countless other women by now.

I must have cried out in my sleep, because Joanne shook me gently to wake me and held me tightly. My body was tensed up and I was crying.

"Shh…Maureen, you're all right. It's only me." I leaned against her and cried as she traced soothing circles on my back until I was calm enough to talk. She dried the tears still lingering on my face and pushed my hair out of my face. She moved closer to me and wrapped her arms around me, though left distance between us so she could see my face. "Honeybear, what's wrong?" I cleared my throat.

"I…uh…had a nightmare about the…um…the cop." I shivered involuntarily, and she instinctively held me tighter.

"It's over now, honey. Everything's fine." I shook my head, remembering how lovingly Mark had cared for me, how he had understood my every want and need without me having to explain, not questioning me. He had taken good care of me. I couldn't help but think that maybe it was a mistake that Mark and I had broken up after the second miscarriage—I blamed it on the pain that both of us were going through (from that in addition to the AIDS and April's suicide and Roger's withdrawal), which had made us unable to connect and communicate. We handled it poorly, and it should have brought us closer together rather than tearing us apart. We had been stupid not to fight for what we had.

But now I was determined not to screw up my relationship with Joanne the way that I had done with my relationship with Mark. And as much as I regret having broken up with Mark, it's in the past, and nothing is going to take us back to the way we used to be. I needed to defend the relationship that I was in, and I was willing to fight for it.

I must have zoned out, because I saw Joanne looking at me, concerned, and calling my name.

"Sorry, pookie."

"It's okay, honey. I was just asking you why everything isn't okay?" I sighed.

"I am scared to death of screwing up this relationship like I did with Mark. And…I didn't want to say anything because I don't want to hurt you—you have to understand that I love you with all of my heart—but I can't help but regret how badly Mark and I handled the second miscarriage. That, maybe, if I had been more mature…it would have worked out." She looked confused and hurt. I was about to apologize, but I realized something. "You know what, Joanne…you're right. Everything is okay. You aren't going to leave me. And Mark is in the past—what I have learned from that relationship is that I am ready and willing to fight to the death for my relationship with you…even if that means cutting out Mark."

"Maureen…honey…I have been thinking about this for a really long time, and I don't want to lose you, but I feel badly about this. You and Mark have a very intimate relationship, and I don't want to do anything to change that. The last thing I want is for you to cut him out. And I do think you need to come to an understanding about the end of your relationship. But let's not dwell on that right now—we both need to sleep." I nodded in agreement.

Joanne wrapped her arms around me protectively and lovingly, and held me tightly. I embraced her as well, feeling safe within her embrace, like she wouldn't let anything happen to me, and for the moment I could relax. Joanne held me all through the night, which helped my body to relax enough to get a good night's sleep.


	43. Chapter 43

**AN:** Gee whiz! Finally an update! I am SO SO SO sorry that it took so long, but I had total writer's block and like zero time. SORRY. Please keep reading this story! And reviews are my life-- please, please review! I'll be more likely to update if I get more reviews hint, hint

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The next morning when I woke up, Joanne was nowhere in sight. I searched throughout the apartment, and I couldn't find her anywhere, although I did find Marcie still in her crib. _Great, this is just like the shit that got me depressed in the first place…_I remembered trying to kill myself and sighed. I looked through my closet, trying to find something to wear, and crumpled at the bottom I found the clothes that Mark had leant me the night before I left for California. I had completely forgotten all about that night. _Good old Mark, always looking out for me…_I wanted to slap myself for thinking this way—I'm supposed to be in love with Joanne! I _am_ in love with Joanne. But still, I brought the shirt up to my face and buried my nose in it. It still smelled like Mark, even though I had been the last person to wear it. I decided to take advantage of the laundry machine that Joanne had purchased while I was away. She had shown me how to use it, and surprisingly I remembered and there were no serious mishaps.

As I was waiting for the clothes to finish drying (and sitting on the machine, humming and biting my nails), Marcie started to cry. I jumped up in a fraction of a second and was there with my baby…and changing her diaper. Ick. I almost started crying, just feeling alone, missing Joanne, cursing her for having left me alone. What was she thinking? She was supposed to be taking time off from work for me! Of course, crying was the wrong course of action, because that set Marcie off, and I didn't know what to do. Hysterical, I called Mark…who screened my call.

"SPEEEEEEEAK!" I bit my fist to hold back a sob. The machine started recording. For a few seconds, I couldn't think of anything to say, and when I spoke, my voice was breaking and cracking like crazy.

"Mark? It…it's Maureen." I deep, rough and concerned voice answered the phone.

"Momo?" I sniffled, not having expected this.

"Roggie?" I managed, biting my lip to keep from crying. His voice softened more.

"Hey, what's wrong? Are you okay?" I couldn't keep my tears back anymore. "I'm coming over there."

"No, Rog…you re--"

"I'm coming over." He said firmly.

"Okay. You win." I said, laughing slightly through my tears.

"Hang in there, sweetie." I hung up and went back over to Marcie and tickled her, trying to get her to stop crying and also in vain trying to lighten my own mood. Marcie had finally calmed down when Rog buzzed up, which caused a brief outburst in the infant, but fortunately, she quickly calmed. I put her down in the playpen and let Roger in. As soon as I opened the door, he took me into his arms and I fell to pieces. He stroked my hair and murmured soothing words until I calmed, then he led me over to the couch. "Maureen, what's wrong? I thought everything was better?" I wiped my eyes.

"Honestly? I don't really know what's wrong. And when I woke up…Joanne wasn't here, and she didn't leave a note or anything. I don't know where she is, and then…I found Mark's clothes in the bottom of my closet, and then I got all confused again, and then I had to change Marcie's diaper, and that's all that's happened, but for some reason it was so overwhelming!"

"Shh…it's okay. Wait…you got confused?" I nodded hesitantly, and spoke softly in response.

"It's just sometimes…I feel like…I made a mistake, you know?"

"Breaking up with Mark?"

"Yeah…the miscarriage shouldn't have driven us apart. We needed each other so much, and then there was April and…"

"Maureen, this was a decade ago…how long have you been feeling like this?"

"I don't know…I mean, I was vaguely aware of it starting about month after I broke up with him, but I don't think it really sunk in until recently. I mean, I have always gone through phases of wanting him back, but I never thought that they were that significant, what do I know about love, right? I thought he was just my first real love, and that would just…never go away, but it didn't mean I should get back with him…"

"Have you ever told him?"

"That I want to get back with him? Not in so many words. Like, the other day when I was having lunch with him, we talked about what would have happened if the miscarriage never happened, but I didn't, you know, like, phrase it as a real possibility. Besides, I've hurt him so much, not to mention that I'm so confused that even _I_ don't know what I really want…it just seemed like a bad idea. I keep abusing him—that's why he ran away, then tried to kill himself! I don't want to cause him any more pain, and he really needs to move on with his life. And also…sometimes, I think most of the time…Joanne is so sweet and wonderful and caring, and I don't feel like there is anything wrong with out relationship and maybe I really do want to be with her, and maybe my first theory about Mark was right." Roger sighed.

"So basically, you love them both." I nodded.

"It's so hard because I can't really choose between the two. I don't want to have to, but there really is no way around it."

"Well, for what it's worth, I do think that you made the right choice with Joanne. You just need to communicate better. Plus, you'll always be bonded to Mark through Marcie, so it's almost like getting the best of both worlds." I smiled.

"I really missed you when I was away."

"Me? Specifically?"

"Yeah, you specifically. I mean, I missed all of you for different reasons. But there were some nights when I just wished that I could talk to you. You're my best friend. Well, other than Mark, but that's gray area between friend and love interest…"

"You're babbling." I roll my eyes and smack him playfully.

"I know. Shut up. You love me," I pause for a moment. "See! That moment right there! That's why I need you!"

"Well, Maureen, I really missed you too. I don't know how you survived all of that…it must have been Hell." I shudder involuntarily.

"Oh my God, it was such torture! I mean, it must have been nothing compared to your withdrawal, but…"

"I'm sure it was equally as bad, but in a different way."

"So much psychobabble, Rog, I thought I was going crazy! Which, I might add, is completely ironic." He laughed and hugged me.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that. But you seem to be much better than you were before."

"Anything would be better than that."

"What I meant was, I'm glad to have my Maureen back, not that imposter—that masochistic automaton. Nothing made you happy anymore! It was just like me after withdrawal, and I hated every moment of seeing you like that."

"Well, I'm glad to be back. Even if I'm not completely back to normal."

"You'll get there, I know you will. After all, you _are_ Maureen Johnson."


	44. Epilogue&Teaser

**A/N:** Sorry I just sort of sprang the ending on you with no warning, but after reflecting on the previous chapter, it sounded like a good place to end. I will be writing a sequel, though, don't worry. I have a tentative title of "Deep Roots", and should be starting it today. See y'all there! AND please please please please review.**  
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**Epilogue**

"Marcie! Hurry up, we're gonna be late!" I called to the five-year-old while slipping my shoes on. She scrambled out of the kitchen and over to where I was standing.

"I'm here Mommy!" I watched her put on her shoes all by herself proudly and smiled. Mark had taught her how to do that about a year ago, but she hadn't mastered it for another several months after that. When she stood up, I bent down and kissed her head.

"You ready, sweetie?" She shook her head.

"What's wrong?" I asked, bending down to her level so I could look her in the eyes.

"I'm scared." She launched herself at me, nearly knocking both of us over. I wrapped my arms around her.

"Aww, sweetie, there's nothing to be scared of. Besides, it'll only be for a few hours. Everybody's waiting downstairs to take you, and then I'll come with Daddy and Mama to pick you up at the end of the day."

"But I don't wanna go!" She cried, tears streaming down her face.

"Marcie, honey, it'll be fun! You'll meet lots of new friends your own age. Wouldn't that be great?" She nodded reluctantly. I stood up and held my hand out to her, and she took it nervously, holding it tightly.

"There she is!" Roger announced as we exited the building to find the other gathered around the door.

"UNCLE ROGER!" Marcie squealed, jumping into Roger's arms as he swung her around and put her down. He put her down gently and she ran over to Mark. "DADDY!" Mark hugged her, picking her up. I adjusted Marcie's backpack and lunch box nervously. Roger came over and greeted me with a hug and we kissed each other's cheek.

"Hey Mo. How are you holding up?" I sighed.

"She's growing up so fast! I honestly never thought I'd make it this far." He put his hand on my shoulder and looked into my eyes.

"I knew you would. You're a fighter."

"Thanks Rog. I think today might be my undoing, though." He laughed.

"Oh Maureen, such a drama queen." I grinned.

"Always." By now Marcie was with Joanne. Mark approached me.

"Hey Mo." He drew me closer and kissed me. I returned the kiss, then drew back.

"Hey Mark." We looked at each other for a moment wordlessly. "So...I can't believe she grew up so fast."

"I know...it seems like just yesterday..." I nodded.

"I know I haven't talked to you in a while, but I'm glad...you're okay with this."

"I have nothing to complain about..." Mimi had Marcie now, so Joanne came up behind me, putting her hands on my hips. I suppressed a moan and leaned back against her. She kissed my neck, and I turned to give her a quick kiss. Mark raised and eyebrow, "except maybe that." I shot him a look "What? I was only kidding!". Mimi put Marcie down. I took one of Marcie's hands in my own.

"We should get going." I said, beginning to walk. The others followed suit. Mark walked on one side of us, Joanne on the other. I couldn't help but smile—even though things weren't perfect, we were making it happily, and I could not have asked for more. The best part, though, was that I was myself again, and in the end, I pulled through. Things might be rocky at times, but hey, I _am_ Maureen Johnson.


End file.
